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THE CRUSADERS 



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THE CRUSADERS 



AN ORIGINAL COMEDY 
OF MODERN LONDON LIFE 

BY ^ 

HENRY ARTHUR JONES 

AUTHOR OF 

THE DANCING GIRL," " JUDAH," " THE MIDDLEMAN 
"WEALTH." ETC. 



Produced at the Avenue Theatre, London 
on the 2nd november, 1 89 1 



O 



MACMILLAN & CQ. / 

AND LONDON 

1893 

All rights reserved 



Copyright, 1892, 
By MACMILLAN & CO. 



Typography by J. S. Cushing & Co., Boston, U.S.A. 



Presswork by Berwick & SiMiTH, Boston, U.S.A. 



PREFACE 



In some foreign picture-galleries the visitor is provided 
with japanned tin '' blinkers/' like stereoscopes with the 
glass knocked out, through which to examine the pic- 
tures. I do not know what is supposed to be the effect 
of this device, but I fancy that in most cases it simply 
serves to concentrate the attention of the observer, and 
so to intensify his vision. That, I take it, should be the 
function of a critical preface. It should neither be an 
arraignment nor an apology, but simply an exposition. 
The writer's likes and dislikes, his prejudices and prefer- 
ences, are neither here nor there. If they are suffered to 
peep out, that is only because there is a great deal of 
human nature in man. The work of art is there, before 
the reader's eyes, and, by the act of publication, submitted 
to his judgment. Any attempt to dictate that judgment 
would be a self-defeating impertinence. All one can do 
— all I would here attempt — is to place the reader at 
what seems to be the right point of view, and to aid him 
in discerning the author's intentions. The merit of these 
intentions and of their execution is entirely a matter for 
the jury. 



vi PREFACE 

First comes the question of categories : What descrip- 
tion of play has Mr. Jones set forth to write? He calls 
The Crusaders a comedy ; but from the word '• comedy " 
we nowadays learn nothing more definite than that the 
stage is not drenched in gore. ^'Satirical romance" 
would perhaps fit the play as exactly as any label of equal 
brevity. That is to say, it is not primarily a drama of 
individual character, but a sketch of a social group, a 
study of a certain intellectual and emotional tendency in 
modern life. In this it differs from the most notable of 
Mr. Jones's previous works. Judah and The Dancing 
Girl were, or ought to have been, dramas of individual 
character. They obviously sprang from the conception 
of the spiritual enthusiast and the half-innocent charlatan, 
the reprobate duke and " the beautiful pagan." In The 
Crusaders, on the other hand, the conception of the 
" milieu " evidently preceded and conditioned that of the 
plot and characters. The germ of the play in the author's 
mind was not a personage or a situation, but a theme — 
that of social idealism. Let me illustrate this distinction 
— between the drama of character and the social satire — 
by a reference to the works of other playwrights. Du- 
mas's Monsieur Aiphonse, Denise, and Francillon are 
dramas of character ; Le Demi-Monde is a social satire. 
To the former class belong Augiers VAventiiricre and 
Les Fourchambaidt ; to the latter, Les Effrontes and Le 
Fils de Giboyer. Frou-frou is the portrait of a woman ; 
Le Monde on Von s'^ennuie is the picture of a coterie. 



PREFACE vii 

Frou-frou without Gilberte would be a contradiction in 
terms ; whereas in Le Monde oil Von s'ennuie no single 
personage, and still less the particular thread of plot on 
which the scenes are strung, is essential to the author's 
conception. Pailleron's play portrays, not a passion or a 
character, but a salon or a cluster of salons, a corner of 
society, a craze, an aifectation, a foible of the hour, of the 
day, at most of the decade. The same description applies 
almost exactly to The Crusaders, except that the social 
idealism with which it deals is a phenomenon of deeper 
and more abiding interest than the pedantry ridiculed in 
the French play. I will go further and say that there is 
probably no larger and more fmitful theme at present open 
to the dramatic satirist than this on which Mr. Jones has 
laid hand. The banner of Social Reform serves as a 
rallying-point for all that is noblest and basest, wisest 
and foolishest, in the world of to-day. Self-less enthu- 
siasm and self-seeking vanity, fanaticism and hypocrisy, 
magnanimity and pusillanimity, the profoundest science 
and the shallowest sciolism, earnestness and affectation, 
paganism, puritanism, asceticism, sensuality, worldliness 
and other-worldliness — these, and a hundred other 
phases and attributes of human nature, stand forth in 
their highest intensity within the sphere of our latter-day 
meliorism. This movement is in tmth as dramatic an 
element in the life of the nineteenth century as were the 
Crusades in that of the thirteenth. It is for the jury to 
determine whether Mr. Jones has risen to the height of 



viii PREFACE 

his argument. One thing alone is certain : to wit, that 

he has not exhausted a theme which is compact of 

Exultations, agonies, 
And love, and man's unconquerable mind. 

The satire of The O'usaders — this is a matter of fact 
rather than of opinion — is contemplative, not militant. 
Mr. Jones writes as a judicious observer, not as a parti- 
san. "What is the use of satire," some ardent spirits 
may ask, "which leaves everybody's withers unwrung? 
The satirist's weapon is the lash. Satire which hurts no- 
body is the merest empty persiflage." But are contempt, 
hatred, and the desire to inflict pain really inherent in 
the idea of satire? Is there no virtue in the genial raillery 
which throws our foibles into relief without arousing that 
spirit of resentment which tempts us, in sheer defiance, to 
persevere in them? Mr. Jones has done his best to be 
fair to all parties. He has embodied — one might almost 
say symbolised — whole-hearted enthusiasm in Philos 
Ingarfield and Una Dell. The imitative idealism which 
arises from a potent personal influence, and vanishes with 
the withdrawal of that influence, finds its representative in 
Cynthia Greenslade. In Mrs. Campion-Blake we have 
the good-natured busybody who makes philanthropy sub- 
serve her social ambition, and place her on the visiting- 
list of "the dear Duchess." Lord Burnham is the genial 
cynic who has no ideals of his own — has he not " been in 
Parliament since he was twenty-two"? — but who holds 
it a part of political sagacity to humour, and perhaps util- 



PREFACE ix 

ise, the idealism of others. Mr. Palsam is the narrow- 
minded (yet not hypocritical) moralist, who would have 
all the world virtuous after his own conventional pattern, 
and finds in scandalmongering a congenial method of 
making himself a terror to evil-doers, if not (and this he 
cares less about) a praise to such as do well. Finally, we 
have in Burge Jawle the necessary opposition of pessi- 
mism to meliorism, of the quietist to the radical ; while his 
satellite, Figg, typifies the craze for co-operative hero- 
worship which has of late been so rampant. It would not 
have been easy, I think, to exhibit within the compass of 
three acts a more representative group of social " cru- 
saders " and camp-followers. Whether Mr. Jones has 
made more than a superficial study of his types is a ques- 
tion for the jury ; also whether he has been quite success- 
ful in resisting the temptation to inartistic extravagance 
of caricature. I will only remark, on this score, that the 
same questions force themselves with no less insistence 
upon the readers of Le Monde ou Vo7i s'e?mj(ie, a play 
which M. Sarcey is for ranking among the perennial 
classics of the French stage. 

Now let me note a technical difference between Mr. 
Jones's work and M. Pailleron's. So far as story is con- 
cerned, the French play may be classed as a comedy, 
almost a farce ; whereas the English play is a romance, 
almost a fairy-tale. There is nothing incredible in Le 
Monde on Von s'^ennicie. For aught we know, the inci- 
dents might have happened ; their probability may be 



X PREFACE 

open to question, but they do not conflict with common 
knowledge. The Cr?esaders, on the other hand, is as 
patently fantastic as Piccadilly or The Battle of Dorking. 
It sets forth events w^hich purport to be, but are not, mat- 
ters of history. They may be more or less possible and 
probable, but their '''factuar^ unreality is obvious from 
the outset. Of course we do not believe that the events 
of any work of imagination ever actually happened ; but, 
while witnessing Forget-me-not, or The Profligate, or Jtc- 
dah, we lend, or try to lend, to the occurrences presented 
a sort of provisional credence. In the case of The Cru- 
saders even this provisional acceptance is impossible. 
We know that no London Reformation League ever set 
about its task with a million and a half at its back. We 
know that there is not, and never was, a rose-farm at 
Wimbledon, tended by five hundred East End seam- 
stresses. We know that no government — Tory, Whig, 
or Radical — ever " guaranteed " such a man as Philos 
Ingarfield as a fit ^and proper personal-conductor for a 
consignment of '' ne'er-do-wells " to Costa Rica. We 
know that no revolution in Costa Rica ever led to a 
change of government in England and an additional two- 
pence on the income-tax. If, in short, w^e are to place 
this fable on the common earth at all, it must be in the 
future, not in the present or past. Mr. Jones, like the 
authors of Looking Backward and News from Nowhere, 
fantasticates in the future, though his future may be con- 
ceived as somewhat nearer than Mr. Bellamy's or Mr. 



PREFACE xi 

Morris's millennium. And it is here, as it seems to me, 
that Mr. Jones has, consciously or unconsciously, hit upon 
a technical device of wide application. In such "fairy- 
tales of the possible future" the dramatic satirist may 
perhaps find his most convenient form of utterance. 
Even the genius of an Aristophanes might shrink from 
the attempt to rescue extravaganza from its present degra- 
dation ; and, failing extravaganza, quasi-realistic romance 
may prove to be the satirist's readiest weapon. Observe 
that I do not attempt to determine whether Mr. Jones 
handles this peculiar weapon with all desirable grace and 
skill. That, again, is a question for the jury. It may be 
that his " possible future " will seem too wildly impossible, 
that such an incident as Lord Burnham's renunciation of 
his racing-stable may be held to out-fantasticate fantasy, 
and that the element of intrigue and serious emotion in 
the latter half of the play may appear out of keeping with 
the general tone of the fairy-tale. On these points, and 
many others, I offer no opinion. My effort has simply 
been to deprecate the Beau-Tibbs attitude of mind, and 
to beg the reader not to contemn a satiric romance be- 
cause it is not "a tragedy or an epic poem, stap my 
vitals ! " I have sought to bring into evidence what 
Mr. Jones has attempted to do, and how he has attempted 
to do it. The merit of his endeavour and the measure of 
his success are, for the present, matters beyond my com- 
petence. 

"But hold!" cries the reader. "In the very fact of 



xii PREFACE 

writing this preface (a task you were doubtless at perfect 
liberty to decline) you commit yourself to an opinion on 
the merits of the play. You assert, by clear implication, 
that it is at least worthy of serious study and criticism." 
Why, yes ; you have me there. Let me, then, drop 
dissimulation and confess that when Mr. Jones hon- 
oured me by suggesting that I should introduce The 
Crusaders to the reading public, I willingly consented, 
because I believed the play to be, with all its faults, a 
piece of '"live" dramatic work and a step in the right 
direction. 

WILLIAM ARCHER. 
London, October 12, 1892. 



AVENUE THEATRE. PLAYBILL OF THE FIRST 
PERFORMANCE OF "THE CRUSADERS" ON MON- 
DAY, NOVEMBER THE SECOND, 1891. 

Avenue Theatre. Mr. Henry Arthur Jones begs to an- 
nounce that his new comedy of modern London Hfe, in three 
acts, called The Crusaders, will be played to-night, November 
2nd, 1 89 1, for the first time. 

" Rely on the laws of gravity. Every stone will fall where it is due. The 
good globe is faithful and carries us securely through the celestial spaces. 
We need not interfere to help it on. We need not assist the administration 
of the universe." — Emerson's Essays. 



Lord Burnham, the Foreign Sec- 
retary ..... 

The Hon. Dick Rusper, his son . 

Philos Ingarfield 

Mr. Palsam, Vice-President of the 
London Reformation League . 

Mr. BuRGE Jawle, the Great Pessi- 
mist Philosopher 

(By the kind permission of Mr. Beerbohm Tree.) 

Mr. FiGG, the founder of the Jawle 
Guild 

Rev. Algernon Portal, Curate of 
Saint Botolph's, Wimbledon . 

Worrell 

Cynthia Greenslade . 

Mrs. Campion-Blake, Hon. Secre- 
tary of the London Reforma- 
tion League .... 

The Queen of the Marshal Niels . 

The Lady Gloire de Dijon 

Victorine 

Una Dell 

xiii 



Mr. Arthur Cecil. 
Mr. YoRKE Stephens. 
Mr. Lewis Waller. 

Mr. Weedon Grossmith. 

Mr. Henry Kemble. 



Mr. Sant Matthews, 

Mr. Allan Aynesworth. 

Mr. G. L. Leith. 

Miss Winifred Emery. 



Lady Monckton. 
Miss LiLLiE Belmore. 
Miss Ettie Williams. 
Miss T^rese Mayer. 
Miss Olga Brandon. 



THE FIRST ACT. 

Young Don Quixote comes from Peckham. 

The Scene is Mrs. Greenslade's Drawing-room in Mayfair. 

(^Fifteen months pass.) 

THE SECOND ACT. 

Utopia arises within an easy drive from Hyde Park 

Corner. 

The scene is the Rose Farm and Rose Cottages 

near Wimbledon, at full Midsummer. 

( Otte night passes.') 

THE THIRD ACT. 

The Parsley Garland. 

The scene is the Morning-room at the Rose Cottage, 

Wimbledon. 

The indulgence of the audience is asked on the first night 
between the acts, as the stage is small and the scenery is rather 
elaborate. 

The furniture and draperies have been made by Messrs. 
William Morris and Company, 449 Oxford street. The new 
scenery has been painted by Mr. Walter Hann. The orchestra 
is the Viennese White Band, under the direction of Herr 
Wurm. The song in the second act is sung by Mr. Stedman's 
choir. The Stage-Manager is Mr. C. M. Appleby. The prices 
of admission are as follows: — Private boxes, ;i^i lis. 6d. to 
£^ 45. Orchestra Stalls, loj'. 6d. Balcony Stalls, 7^. Dress 
Circle (bonnets allowed in last row), 55. Upper Circle (first 
row booked), y. Pit, 2s. Gallery, is. The Box Office (Mr. 
Melton) is open from 10 till 5 daily and during the evening 
performance. The doors will be opened at 7.30, the overture 
will be played at 8, and the curtain will rise at 8.15. All com- 
munications are to be addressed to Mr. G. D. Day, the business 
manager at the theatre. 

XV 



ACT I 



Scene — Mrs. Greenslade's Drawing-room in Mayfair, a 
very richly and tastefully furnished apartment. At back a hand- 
some row of pillars, which flank staircases running at right 
angles to spectator, and leading to upper apartments. A large 
bowl of beautiful roses on a small table down the stage. 

A door and a fireplace on the left side of the stage. 

A door on the right side of the stage, near the footlights. 

Handsome settees, sofas, cabinets, etc.; the whole apartment 
giving evidence of great wealth and taste. 

After curiam has risen a few moinents, Cynthia's 
face J in widow^s head-dress, is seen at back, peeping 
through the curtains on left side. She listens in- 
tently for a few moments, then withdraws ; the 
curtains close, and a moment later she appears at 
bottom of stairs, still listening. She is in widow's 
mourning; about twenty-five years of age, with 
fascinating, coquettish manners. After listening a 
moment towards door right very intently, she smiles, 
then runs qtiickly to sofa, curls herself upon it, 
listens again, and, as Worrell enters, feigns to be 
asleep. 



2 THE CRUSADERS act i 

Entei', door right, Worrell, a very respectable man- 
servant, bald, stout, about forty-five. 

Worrell announces Mr. Rusper. 

Enter the Honourable Dick Rusper, about thirty ; an 
easy, affable, good-looking English ge?itleman. 

{Exit Worrell right.) 

Dick comes down, sees Cynthia, stops suddenly, con- 
tentplates her with great admii'ation. 

Dick. Fast asleep ! How interesting ! How in- 
nocent ! {Pause, full of admiratioft.) Devilish pretty 
woman ! {Steals 7ioiselessly across to back of sofa, 
bends over her.) 

(Cynthia opens her eyes, affects not to see 
hi??t, yaiuns, stretches her arms, then sud- 
denly looks at him, pretends to start , sits 
quickly bolt upright on sofa, stares at him 
as if Just wakefied fro7fi sleep.) 
Cynthia. How stupid of me ! {Jumps up quickly ^ 
goes to him, extends her hand cordially, eagerly.) 
Well, will Lord Burnham be president? 
Dick. Yes, I've rushed him into it. 
Cynthia. How good of you ! Then London is 
reformed already ! 

{Clapping her hatids with delight, crossing 
to the bowl of roses, buries her head in 
the roses.) 



ACT I THE CRUSADERS 3 

Dick. It ought to be, with my dad to boss the — 
what d'ye call the concern? 

Cynthm. The London Reformation League. 
(Spie//s the roses delicately and luxuriously.^ Aren't 
these roses exquisite ? ( Gathers a rose, plays with it.) 

Dick {comes up to table, speaks in a low, soft, ivinning 
voice). I wish you'd let me be on your committee. 

Cynthia {shakes her head). Mr. Palsam objects. 

Dick. Why? 

Cynthla. Because you're married. 

Dick. So are most of the other members. 

Cynthia. Yes, but they — {longish pause, drops 
her voice) they contiftue married. 

Dick. So do I — at a distance. My wife and I 
found out that when we were together we were miser- 
able, and when we were away from each other we 
were happy ; so we parted. She does as she likes ; 
I do as I like. A jolly sensible arrangement ! 

Cynthia. Yes, but — you can't reform London that 
way. 

Dick {approaching her). 1 don't want to reform 
London at all. 

Cynthla {getting away from him). Ah! I knew 
you weren't in earnest ! Nobody is in earnest except 
Mr. Ingarfield. 

Dick. No ; and nobody wants to be, when they've 
once seen him. 

Cynthia {reproachfully). You don't believe in our 
great scheme ! 



4 THE CRUSADERS act i 

Dick {cofnes up to her, in a very insinuating whis- 
per) . Yes I do, if it brings me near you ! 

Cynthia {coldly, severely). Please don't trifle. I 
have a terrible responsibility resting on me ! 

Dick {looks at her, laughs). Since when? 

Cynthia. Ever since I met Mr. Ingarfield. My 
whole character has completely changed. 

Dick {shakes his head). Characters don't change. 
You're the same wicked torment of a flirt that you 
were six years ago, when you plagued the hfe out of 
Fred Rossiter and me, and threw us both over to 
marry Mr. Greenslade. You've taken up this London 
Reformation scheme just as you took up the cottagers' 
poultry scheme, and by-and-bye you'll find this Ingar- 
field as great a bore as that old Cochin China, and 
you'U wring his neck and stop his crowing for ever ! 

Cynthia {indignantly). How can you speak so? 
How little you know me ! 

Dick. How Httle you know yourself ! 

Cynthia. The last four months life has become 
charged with terrible meaning to me. My whole 
future is devoted to carrying out my husband's will. 

Dick. It isn't his will. It was never signed. 

Cynthia. It would have been if he had lived 
another hour. I promised him I would carry it out. 

Dick. But he wasn't — 

Cynthia. What ? 

Dick. I should pain you. 

Cynthia. No ; it's nearly a year. Go on. 



ACT I THE CRUSADERS 5 

Dick. His health — his mind — 

Cynthia. Yes, poor man ! But he was quite harm- 
less, only very eccentric. And he was a great public 
benefactor. 

Dick. He made a splendid fortune out of his non- 
intoxicant beverages. 

Cynthia. It was the building-land that made his 
fortune. {Rises indigjiantly.) I hate you ! 

Dick. Why? 

Cynthia. You don't believe in anything ! 

Dick. I don't beheve in temperance champagne. 
But I'll beheve in reforming London if {appjvaching 
her tenderly^ you'll let me be on the committee. 

Cynthia. Ask Mr. Palsam. If he objects, you 
could still — 

Dick. What? 

Cynthia {retreats from Jmn tip stage) . Help Mr. 
Ingarfield. 

{She throws the rose coqiiettishly down stage. 
He looks at her a moment, the^i goes and 
picks it up, kisses it, puts it in his button- 
hole^ 

Worrell enters right, aiinounces Mrs. Campion-Blake. 

Enter, door right, Mrs. Campion-Blake, a fussy, ener- 
getic, talkative society woman, rather showily dressed. 
She comes down stage centre. Exit Worrell. 

Cynthia advances to shake hands with Mrs. Campion- 
Blake. 



6 THE CRUSADERS act i 

Dick puts rose in button-hole, regards it affectionately. 

Mrs. Cam. My dear, congratulate me. I've got 
Lord Rodbaston to join the committee. {Shaking 
hands. ) 

Cynthia. Lord Rodbaston? 

Mrs. Cam. The great brewers, Hooper, Barkin 
& Co. Rodbaston promises to take a very active 
part in the League, only, of course, we shall have 
to put the temperance question a little in the back- 
ground. 

Qyt^tuia {dubiousl}). But our programme ! {Quot- 
ing.) " London sober ! London clean ! London 
honest ! " 

Mrs. Cam. We'll make London clean and honest 
first — 

Cynthia. But Mr. Ingarfield — 

Mrs. Cam. My dear child, we shall never reform 
London if we begin by offending everybody. Ah ! 
How d'ye do, Mr. Rusper? {Co?nes to Dick, shakes 
hands.) Now tell me, Lord Burnham must positively 
be president ! 

Dick. Yes ; he's coming here this afternoon to 
meet Mr. Ingarfield. 

Mrs. Cam. {shows great satisfaction). There's a 
dear fellow. It's a million pities we can't get the 
Marquis of Bicester ! 

Cynthia. Can't we ? {Flaying with her rose list- 
lessly.) 



ACT I THE CRUSADERS 7 

Mrs. Cam. My dear, can you ask, after Mr. Ingar- 
field's attacks upon the great ground landlords of 
London ? Mr. Ingarfield is so impracticable ! So 
injudicious ! 

^/z/^r Worrell, 7'ightdoo7\ He annotmces Mr. Palsam, 
and exit. 

Enter right, Mr. Palsam, a thin, pale, weedy, nervous, 
unhealthy-looking little man, about thirty-five to 
forty, very short-sighted, precise, fidgetty, excitable, 
waspish, narrow, sincere, with a constant habit of 
nervously washing his hands, and a painfully earnest 
manner. Dick nods coolly to Palsam as he passes. 
Mrs. Campion-Blake bows slightly. Palsam comes 
to Cynthia, shakes hands. 

Palsam {he always speaks in the same painfully 
earnest majiner). I must speak to you ! It's most 
important ! 

(Cynthia and Palsam move down stage. 
Mrs. Campion-Blake goes to Dick and 
talks with hi7n.) 
Palsam. Your new French maid. 
Cynthia. Victorine ? 

Palsam. Where was she last Sunday afternoon ? 
Cynthia. She went out. 
Palsam. Where ? 
Cynthia. I didn't ask. It's no business of mine. 



8 THE CRUSADERS act i 

Palsam {pained beyond measure^. Oh! my dear 
Mrs. Greenslade, no business of yours ? I saw her in 
the Green Park, walking with a soldier — at least, I'm 
almost sure it was she — I'm very short-sighted — his 
arm was round her waist. {Reprovingly,^ No business 
of yours ! 

Cynthia. But you're not sure. 

Palsam. Promise me you'll question her. 

Cynthia. She wouldn't tell me. 

Palsam. Yes she would, if you approached her in 
the right way. There's a way of getting at the truth 
in these cases. Besides, wouldn't it be much better 
to err on the right side, and accuse her wrongfully, 
rather than let her escape if she's guilty? 

Cynthia. Guilty of what ? 

Palsam. Well, she's French. I'm sorry to say it, 
but such a thing as real, genuine morality, as we know 
it in England, doesn't exist in the whole of the French 
nation. Besides, we can't be too particular — 

Cynthl\. Really, Mr. Palsam — {going away from 
him) . 

Palsam. Well, I thought it my duty to caution 
you. {Following her np.) I implore you not to let 
the matter rest I felt so grieved when I heard you 
had taken a French maid ; it upset me for days ! I do 
think it's so wicked of people ! — {He goes muttering 
up to chair, seats himself, genuinely distressed.) 

Dick {to Mrs. Campion-Blake). Jolly lot of nice 
people on your committee. 



ACT I THE CRUSADERS 9 

Mrs. Cam. {rattling on to Dick). Yes, it's quite a 
democratic movement amongst the aristocracy. The 
Duchess of Launceston said to me the other day — 
such a charming woman, the duchess — the duchess 
said, " Mrs. Campion-Blake, this London Reforma- 
tion League is bound to succeed. You're all so 
terribly in earnest." And with Lord Burnham as 
president — 

Palsam {jumps up, startled'). The Bishop of 
Huntingdon is to be president — 

Mrs. Cam. My dear Mr. Palsam, you're dreaming. 
The Bishop of Huntingdon has no social influence 
whatever. Besides, he's Low Church, and really one 
might as well be dead and buried at once ! No ; 
Lord Burnham has consented. 

Palsam {vigorously'). I really must protest against 
the way in which everything is being taken out of my 
hands. As Mr. Greenslade's acting trustee I am 
empowered — 

Mrs. Cam. Pardon me ! Mr. Greenslade's first 
will remains in force — everything is legally Mrs. 
Greenslade's. 

Palsam. That makes no difference. I — 

Mrs. Cam. But Hsten a moment — 

Palsam. I cannot ! I will not argue ! It always 
excites me so ! and Pm not strong. / have decided 
that the Bishop of Huntingdon shall be the president. 
{Seating Jiiniself resolutely.) 

Mrs. Cam. And we have decided that Lord Burn- 



lO THE CRUSADERS act i 

ham shall be president. {Seating herself resolutely.) 
Haven't we, dear? 

Cynthia {holding the rose over her head, playing 
with it above her nose). I wish we could reform 
London without quarrelling like cats and dogs every 
time we meet. ( Going slowly to table, bii?ying her 
face in the rose-tree^ 

Mrs. Cam. {resignedly). Of course the decision 
rests entirely with you. 

Enter Worrell, who annoimces Lord Burnhaivl 

Enter Lord Burnham, a veiy distinguished-looking 
man about sixty; affable, slvewd, well-bred, a 
genial cynic. {Exit Worrell.) 

Lord Burnham cojnes doivn to Cynthla., bows to Mrs. 
Campion-Blake. 

Cynthia. How d'ye do? {Shaking hatids.) It's 
so kind of you to be our president. (Palsam listens 
attentively, Mrs. Campion-Blake also.) Now we shall 
begin work in real earnest ! 

(Palsam shows angry despair, tur?is half 

round in his chair with a despairing 

gesture, crosses his legs, bites his thumb. 

Mrs. Campion-Blake shows triumph.) 

Cynthia {noticing Palsaim). Mr. Palsam {i^ery 

engagingly), Vm sure you'll consider it an honour to 



ACT I THE CRUSADERS ii 

aid Lord Burnham in our great work. (Palsam comes 
forward. Cynthia introduces.^ Mr. Palsam, our 
vice-president ! Lord Burnham, our president! {em- 
phatically. The two men bow.) 

Palsam. Of course, if Lord Burnham has consid- 
ered the solemn responsibility ! — 

Lord Burnham. Well, on second thoughts, I'm 
afraid I'm scarcely fitted for the post — 

Mrs. Cam. {quickly). You are positively the only 
man in London who is fitted ! 

Palsam. You'll pardon me, but — 

Cynthia {sweetly) . Mr. Palsam, it is quite settled. 
Will you be seated? {Points to sofa.) 

Palsam {goes to sofa, 7nuttering) . It is so wrong of 
people ! But he'll do something, and then {joyfully) 
I'll make an example of him ! 

Lord Burnham {looking at Palsam). {Aside.) 
Rather a mangy vice-president ! {Aloud.) Yes, on 
consideration, I'm a busy man, and — 

Mrs. Cam. Oh, but the president's position is 
quite honorary. There is nothing to do. 

Lord Burnham. I shall not be expected to under- 
take the reformation of any individual Londoner ? 

Mrs. Cam. Oh, not at all ! 

Lord Burnham. Not even myself? 

Palsam {solemnly). The committee of the London 
Reformation League do not stand in need of any 
reformation themselves, except in trifles. 



12 THE CRUSADERS act i 

Cynthia. We all approach perfection as nearly as 
is endurable for our neighbours, except in trifles ! 

Dick {strikes in cheerfully). I know I've been 
getting better ever since I've been coming here ; and 
now I feel good enough for anything, — good enough 
to be on the committee ! 

Lord Burnham. I've no doubt the moral atmos- 
phere is bracing, and {glancing at Cynthia and Mrs. 
Campion- Blake) enchanting. And if I consulted only 
my own narrow, selfish wish to improve my own charac- 
ter, I'm sure I couldn't do it under better auspices. 
But I've always considered it a pecuHarly base kind 
of treachery to be any better than my neighbours. 
It's leaving them in the lurch, and I can't do it. Now 
I'm fond of racing — (Palsam shows great pain and 
disgust.) 

Mrs. Cam. Why not? A fine, manly, English 
sport ! There's nothing in horse-racing incompatible 
with the London Reformation League. Besides, if 
you lend us the support of your name to improve 
society in some ways, that surely gives you a little 
license to — a — exercise your discretion in — a — some 
other ways. 

Lord Burnham. It isn't my discretion I want to 
exercise, it's my indiscretion that I want to have an 
occasional galop. 

Cynthia {implorifigly) . Oh, but you could help 
us so much ! Your name alone would be so valu- 
able ! 



ACT I THE CRUSADERS 



13 



Lord Burnham. Well, if my name will improve 
society — 

Mrs. Cam. Oh, it will ! it will ! An old title car- 
ries so much weight ! ( Vejy coaxingly.) You will be 
our first president ? 

Lord Burnham. Well, till you can get somebody 
better. {Rises.) Now tell me, what are we doing? 
How far have we reformed London at present ? Have 
we made a start? 

Cynthia. Oh yes ! We have taken five hundred 
poor seamstresses out of the worst sweating shops in 
the East End, and set them to grow roses on a rose- 
farm near Wimbledon Common. Look ! {pointifig to 
the rose-tree). This is the result. 

Lord Burnham {smells roses) . Delicious ! 

Cynthia {enthusiastically). One can't have too 
many roses ! And it's such a lovely industry ! 

Lord Burnham. Did they grow these ? 

Cynthia. Yes ; under gardeners, of course. We 
have forty experienced gardeners to teach them. 

Lord Burnham. Does the rose-farm pay ? 

Cynthia. Not at present. But it doesn't matter, 
because we've so much money coming in, we don't 
know what to do with it. 

Lord Burnham. May I ask what is the precise 
sum we have available for the reformation of London ? 

Cynthia. Mr. Greenslade left over a million and 
a half. Except his ample provision for me, it all goes 
to carry out Mr. Ingarfield's scheme. 



14 THE CRUSADERS act i 

Lord Burnham. How is it invested? 

Palsam. In modern residences in Peckham and 
Cambervvell. 

Lord Burnham. Of course ! Mr. Greenslade had 
large building speculations in the south of London. 

Palsam. Yes ; he built quite a superior style of 
residence for forty pounds a year ; you might almost 
call it a suburban mansion. 

Lord Burnham. In fact, we may be said to owe 
modern Peckham and Camberwell to Mr. Greenslade, 
eh? 

Palsam. And parts of Clapham and Wimbledon. 

Lord Burnham. What else did he do ? 

Palsam. He discovered several temperance tonics. 
I have derived great benefit from his beverages. 

Lord Burnham. He seems to have done a great 
deal of reformation altogether. 

Palsa^l Yes. My lord, I never allow a drop of 
alcohol inside my house, and, if I may suggest, it 
would set a very beneficial example if you, as 
president of the League, would also make a strict 
rule — 

Lord Burnham {aghast). Yes ! Yes ! I've rather 
a good cellar just at present, Mr. Palsam, but — I'll 
think it over. {Hastily.) Now about this rose-farm ; 
very dehghtful place, eh, Dick ? 

Dick. Jolliest place in the world. You'd think 
you were a hundred miles in the country. And the 
rose-farmers in their pretty dresses, and singing their 



ACT I THE CRUSADERS 15 

songs ! A most charming idea, Mrs. Greenslade ! 
{Leans over Cynthia's chair.') 

Lord Burnham. The rose-farm was your idea, 
Mrs. Greenslade? 

Cynthia. Mr. Ingarfield's and mine. Mr. Green- 
slade bought the forty acres for building, but there 
were two such pretty old-fashioned cottages — 

Mrs. Cam. {gushingly). Perfect dreams of cot- 
tages ! 

Cynthia. So I persuaded him to give it to me. I 
keep the cottages furnished, and we have built some 
new houses for the rose-farmers. 

Lord Burnham. And these young persons, young 
girls, young women, or whatever they are — 

Mrs. Cam. Most of them have titles. 

Lord Burnham {surprised) . Titles ! 

Mrs. Cam. Yes. That was my idea. A title is 
such a powerful incentive to good conduct. So we 
give them titles for rewards. One is called "The 
Queen of the Marshal Niels," another "The Lady 
Gloire de Dijon," and so on. 

Lord Burnham. Do these titles imply a moral or 
a horticultural distinction ? 

Mrs. Cam. Both moral and horticultural. 

Palsam. During the winter I have arranged for 
nightly lectures of an improving nature. 

Lord Burnham. Ah ! that sounds cheerful 1 

Enter Worrell, door right, comes down stage a little. 



i6 THE CRUSADERS act i 

Worrell. The vvorkingmen members have ar- 
rived, ma'am. 

Cynthia. Show them upstairs — 

Mrs. Cam. The other way — 

Cynthia. And have some lunch prepared for Mr. 
Ingarfield in the next room. 

(Worrell goes back to door right.) 

Lord Burnham. We have workingmen on our 
committee ? 

Mrs. Cam. Only three. It pleases the working- 
classes, and {benevolently) it doesn't do any harm. 

Worrell {looking off). Mr. Ingarfield and Miss 
Dell have just come in, ma'am. 

Cynthia {shows some slight agitation at the mention 
of Ingarfield's name). Show them in here. No 
{rises) J I'll speak to them first in the library. 

(Palsam watches Cynthia very suspiciously.) 

{Exit Worrell. Cynthia follozvs him.) 

Palsam {has been watching her sourly and suspi- 
ciously). {Aside.) She's gone to settle something 
important behind my back. ( Going up to door right.) 
{Aside.) They're always settling things without con- 
sulting me ! {Goes off, muttering.) 

Lord Burnham, Dick, and Mrs. Campion- Blake have 
watched him off. 

(Lord '^\5R^Y{k^i looks grave ^ 
Dick. You're in for a good thing, sir ! 



ACT I THE CRUSADERS 17 

Lord Burnham {rises) . I shall never live up to it, 
Dick. ( Comes down stage a few steps till he is on 
a level with Dick. The two men look at 
each other. Dick laughs at his father. 
Lord Burnhaini walks gravely and moodily 
down to sofa, sits, looks anxious and 
solemn.) 

Dick. I say, Mrs. Blake, I've just taken a little 
place near the rose-farm at Wimbledon, and I can 
come over occasionally. 

Mrs. Cam. That will be sweet of you. 

Lord Burnham {has been listening) . Dick ! 

Dick {comes down to Lord Burnham) . Sir ! 

Mrs. Cam. {rises, takes out her watch). It's nearly 
time for the committee. ( Goes up to foot of stair- 
case, looks up at it attentively, listenifig.) 

Lord Burnham {confidentially, in a tone of kind 
reproof) . No damned nonsense with this Mrs. Green- 
slade ! 

Dick. Damned nonsense, sir? 

Lord Burnham. Yes. This house you've taken 
at Wimbledon ! I'm not straitlaced, but one must 
think a little about pubHc opinion. It doesn't do to 
get found out — it's so awkward all round. 

Dick. I assure you, sir, there isn't the least foun- 
dation. 

Mrs. Cam. {coming down stage) . As usual ! Our 
workingmen members are quarrelling amongst them- 
selves. 

c 



i8 THE CRUSADERS act i 

Lord Burnhmi. Apparently we are a hybrid com- 
mittee. What's this Ingarfield Uke ? 

Mrs. Cam. Oh, he's a new variety of inspired idiot. 
Something between an angel, a fool, and a poet. And 
atrociously in earnest ! A sort of Shelley from Peck- 
ham Rye. Poor old Greenslade was as mad as a 
hatter, and Mr. Palsam worried him into a death-bed 
repentance, and got him to leave all his money to this 
scheme of Ingarfield's. 

Lord Burnham. And that's how we come to be 
reforming London at this prodigious rate. 

Mrs. Cam. Yes. Well, if we don't do any good, 
we shan't do any harm. Oh, I want you to dine with 
us one evening, and I'll ask Mr. Ingarfield. He's 
rather good fun, if you take him in small doses. 

Lord Burnham. Thank you, I — a — I — 

Mrs. Cam. You're going to say " No," but you 
shall choose your own evening. And you shan't be 
bored. I'll ask Madame Fanny Blower, the American 
gymnast. Have you seen her performance ? 

Lord Burnham. No — I — 

Mrs. Cam. Oh, she's adorable ! She gives drawing- 
room gymnastics after dinner. It isn't the least indeli- 
cate — after the first shock. It's a splendid lesson in 
digestion to all diners-out. 

Dick. I've seen her. Very fine woman, and not at 
all overdressed. 

Mrs. Cam. You'll come too, Mr. Rusper? 

Dick. Delighted. I say, who's this Miss Una Dell ? 



ACT I THE CRUSADERS 19 

Mrs. Cam. She's the grand-daughter of the mad 
Chartist poet. She's a good deal madder than poor 
dear Ingarfield — 

Door right opens. 

Dick {warningly) . Hush ! 

Enter door right Cynthia and Philos Ingarfield ; he 
is about thirty, loiig light curly hair parted in the 
middle, worn eager face, high narrow forehead ; lean, 
nervous, dreamy, absorbed. They come down stage 
towards table, Cynthia a step or two in advance of 
Ingarfield. 

Una Dell, a sensitive, shy, enthusiastic girl, about 
twenty, comes to door light, enters a step or tivo and 
stands there. 

Cynthia {to Ingarfield, with great concern). 
You're tired ! You're hungry ! 

Philos {looking at her with great tenderness) . No ! 
My work is food and rest to me ! My work ! {aside, 
very softly) and my love for you ! 

Dick {aside, Jealously). That long-haired chap's 
bowling me out ! 

Cynthl4. Lord Burnham, may I present Mr. Philos 
Ingarfield ? 

(Ingarfield and'LoRV) Burnham bow.) 

(Mrs. Campion-Blake engages Philos, talks to him.) 



20 THE CRUSADERS act i 

Cynthia. And {looking round foi- Una, who stands 
against door). Where's — Oh, there you are ! Come 
here ! (Una comes down.) 

Worrell enters right, conies down to Cynthl\. 

Cynthl\ {continuing, as Una conies do7un). Lord 
Burnham, this is Miss Una Dell. On a platform she 
can talk to three thousand miners. In a drawing-room 
she hasn't a word to say. 

Lord Burnila.m {bows to Una, motions her to a seat 
on sofa). I hope we shall find some subject. 

Cynthla {laughing) . Try social science. ( Goes a 
step or tivo back, where she is joined by Worrell, who 
whispers her.) 

Mrs. Cam. {to Philos) . Sit down ! You are really 
kiUing yourself. ( Gets Philos into chair.) Now you 
must be very nice to Lord Burnham ! He can be of 
the greatest use to your scheme. 

Philos {j^ery earnestly). Does he love his fellow- 
men? 

Mrs. Cam. {dubiously). Well, not particularly — 
but he has immense social influence. I'm afraid he's 
rather worldly {shaking her head sadly) , not serious, 
not earnest, not one of us. Still, we must put up with 
his frivolity for the good of London. 

Cynthia (/^Worrell). Yes; in that room {indi- 
cating door left) . {Exit Worrell door left) 

(Cynthia Joins Philos and T^Irs. Campion- Blake.) 



ACT I THE CRUSADERS 2i 

Dick {has been watching Mrs. Campion- Blake ///j-j-- 
ing about Philos — aside) . What women can see in 
that fellow ! I wish I could ship him off to Costa 
Rica along with his ne'er-do-wells. ( Watches Cynthia 
and Mrs. Campion- Blake.) 

Una {Jias been talking enthusiastically to Lord 
BuRNHAM, suddenly). Oh, but I love blackguards ! 
I love gaol-birds ! I love outcasts of all sorts ! I 
love everybody that's unfortunate, and miserable, 
and ugly, and wicked, and stupid ! Don't you love 
them ? 

Lord Burnham. At some distance. 

Una. Oh, but you'll have to love them if you want 
to reform them. You'll never do it without love. 

Lord Burnham {looks disconcerted). {Aside.) I 
shall resign the first chance I get. 

Mrs. Cam. {effusively to Philos) . Yes ; you must ! 
Lord Burnham is positively dying to dine with you ! 

Philos. My dinner wouldn't suit Lord Burnham. 

Lord Burnham. Why not ? 

Philos. It's so plain. 

Cynthia. Why do you live like a hermit? 

Philos. I can't feast while my brothers and sisters 
are starving. 

Mrs. Cam. Your brothers and sisters ? Where are 
they? 

Philos. In the gutters, in the alleys, in the gaols 
and work-houses. There are hundreds of thousands 
of them in the East of London that never smile. 



22 THE CRUSADERS act i 

Mrs. Cam. Poor creatures ! Well, now Lord Burn- 
ham is president, we shall soon put matters right for 
them ! You'll put Mr. Ingarfield's scheme into opera- 
tion at once. Lord Burnham. 

Lord Burnham. Certainly. Perhaps Mr. Ingar- 
field will give me a few details. Where do we start ? 

Philos. I start with the condition of London at 
the present moment. What have we made of our 
city? What are we going to make of it? Put up 
twenty- story flats all over the West End as far as 
Richmond, build Clapham Junctions all over the 
suburbs, and let the East End sprawl in its misery 
till it covers Essex. That's London's present ideal. 
Is it yours ? 

Lord Burnham. I regret to say I have no ideals. 

Una. No ideals? 

Lord Burnham. No ; you see I've been in Parlia- 
ment since I was twenty- two. 

Philos. I want to put an ideal London before 
every Londoner. I want all good citizens to stand in 
Hne and say to London filth, to London ugliness, to 
food adulteration, to slums, to bad drains, to legal 
chicanery, to horse-racing, to the Stock Exchange, and 
to all other ways of living upon your neighbour with- 
out working for him, to the thief, to the idle, to the 
drunkard, to the jerry house-builder, — I want Lon- 
doners to say to all of them, — "We'll abolish you ! " 

Lord Burnham. And what do you suppose all 
these good folks will say in reply ? 



ACT I THE CRUSADERS 23 

Dick {in a low aside). "We'll see you damned 
first ! " 

Enter Worrell door left. 

Philos {contimiing excitedly) . I begin — 

Worrell. Mr. Ingarfield's luncheon is served. 
{Crosses to door right, exit.) 

Lord Burnham. Well, where do we begin ? 

Philos. Everywhere where there is dishonesty, 
misery, disease, despair ! I want to make every 
Londoner feel that every broken waif of humanity 
in this city, no matter how evil, wretched, ignorant, 
sunken, diseased, is his brother, his sister, his 
child ! 

Lord Burnham. I fancy we've heard something 
like this before. 

Una. Yes ; it's two thousand years old, or there- 
abouts. Mr. Ingarfield only preaches what everybody 
beheves, and nobody practises. 

Philos {absorbed, continuing). I want to bind all 
Londoners in one task, not to cease or rest till they 
have made London beautiful, London happy, London 
honest, London healthy, London sober, London clean, 
London free, from north to south, from west to east, 
in every street, in every home ! 

Lord Burnham. I don't quite catch the method ! 

Una. Don't you? It's so easy! By persuasion ! 
There's no other way of making people better. Men 
don't keep on being foolish for ever. They used to 



24 THE CRUSADERS act i 

cut one another's throats. They're beginning to see 
that's absurd. By-and-bye they'll see it's just as ab- 
surd to cheat and lie to one another ! 

Lord Burnham {shakes his head). My dear young 
lady, believe me, lying is far too venerable and useful 
an accomplishment for humanity to see its absurd 
aspect — in our day at least. 

Worrell enters at door right with tivo telegra?ns ; 
l)ri?igs tJiem to Philos. Vki^pcsi follows hifn, watch- 
ing him closely. 

Philos {taking telegrams from Worrell). Excuse 
me. {Opens the?n.) 

Worrell goes to door right, watched by Palsa]\l Exit. 

Palsam {watching Worrell off veiy suspiciously). 
It can't be right to bring that French maid into this 
house ! {Stands moody, distressed.) 

Philos {having i-ead telegram). My poor ne'er- 
do-wells ! (Dick listens very attentively.) 

Cynthia. Where are they? 

Philos. On board the Avenger, at Portsmouth. 
The President of Costa Rica refuses to receive them 
unless they are accompanied by a suitable guardian 
guaranteed by the English government. 

Dick. Perhaps the Foreign Office can help you, 
Mr. Ingarfield. My father is Foreign Secretary — 

(Lord BurnhajNI looks anxious, frowns, 
shakes his head at Dick.) 



ACT I THE CRUSADERS 25 

Philos. It would be kind of you. Read these 
telegrams. {Gives telegrams to Dick.) 

Lord Burnham. Who are these ne'er-do-wells of 
yours, Mr. Ingarfield? 

Philos. Those who have been beaten and trodden 
underfoot in the struggle for life, — the weak^ the 
diseased, the ignorant. 

Lord Burnham. A good many bad characters. 

Philos. You shouldn't call any man a bad charac- 
ter till you've changed places with him. 

Lord Burnham. What shall you do with them ? 

Philos. I don't know. They've broken loose at 
Portsmouth ; and the authorities threaten to prosecute 
me, unless I remove them — 

Dick {having read telegrams, rises, and hands them 
back to Philos). There's only one way, Mr. Ingar- 
field ! You must go to Costa Rica yourself ! 

(Una shows interest a?id slight alarm.) 

Philos. Myself ! 

Cynthia. Impossible ! Mr. Ingarfield cannot be 
spared from London ! 

Mrs. Cam. Not till his scheme is in working 
order. 

Dick. Mr. Ingarfield will either have to go to 
Costa Rica, or be prosecuted. This telegram from 
the mayor of Portsmouth uses pretty strong language. 
The Portsmouth people don't seem to hke ne'er-do- 
wells. (Dick hands telegrams to Mrs. Campion-Blake 
and Cynthia, who read them eagerly.) All Mr. In- 



26 THE CRUSADERS act i 

garfield has to do is to run over to Costa Rica, estab- 
lish his colony, and leave his scheme in our hands — 

Palsam {aiithoritatively) . I believe I am the vice- 
president of this League — 

Dick {amiably, soothingly). Quite so, Mr. Palsam 
— leave the scheme in Mr. Palsam's hands. We can 
make it all right with the Costa Rica government — 

Lord Burnham {ivaniingly) . I'm not sure, Dick — 

Dick. We can guarantee Mr. Ingarfield as a suit- 
able person to look after ne'er-do-wells. It's a mere 
formahty. 

Lord Burnhat^i {rises). May I see the telegrams? 
{Joins Cynthia and Mrs. Campion- Blake. 
They hand telegrams to him.) 

Dick {continues, glowitigly). And it's a lovely 
country ! Don't I wish I had the chance of going ! 

Philos {ahsoi'bed). I've given my word to them. 
If I forsake them, what will become of them? 

Dick. The Portsmouth magistrates will deal with 
them. 

Philos {scarcely listening to Dick). And I could 
see for myself how far the country's suited to receive 
my oppressed ones. {Sits in armchair, absof'bed^ 
deliberating.) 

Dick { plying hiiti) . The country's a perfect para- 
dise for all classes of people who can't get on here. 
Why can't they get on here? Because, from consti- 
tutional reasons, they either don't, or can't, or won't, 
work. Well, in Costa Rica there's no need for much 



ACT I THE CRUSADERS 27 

work, nothing beyond that sHght amount which is a 
pleasurable activity. There's the coffee ! All you've 
got to do is to let it grow, and dry it ! There are the 
bananas ! All you've got to do is to let them grow, 
and gather them ! And the vines ! (Palsam looks 
ferocious^ Talk about Chateau Lafitfe — 

Palsam {veij 7vaspishly). I object to the Green- 
slade bequest being squandered in the pernicious 
industry of intoxication — 

Dick {comes to hi?n good-humouredly, walks hwi to 
sofa). Quite so, Mr. Palsam. We'll stick to the 
coffee and bananas. We must take care these poor 
ne'er-do-wells don't get rich too suddenly. {Gets 
Valsku soothed, and seated on sofa.) It might upset 
them. And when we see each one of them owning a 
flourishing coffee and banana plantation, instead of 
loafing about a public-house — by Jove, we shall be 
happy ! 

Philos {stiddenly). I'll go with them! It's my 
duty, and I'll go ! 

Dick {aside, joyfully). Landed him ! 

Cynthla. and Mrs. Campion-Blake, very much con- 
cerned, come to Philos. 

Cynthia. But you can't be spared. 
Mrs. Cam. Positively you shan't go. 
Philos. I must. 

Cynthia. Is there nothing that would keep you? 

(Philos looks at her.) 



28 THE CRUSADERS act i 

Una {aside, watching) . Yes. His love for her. 

Philos. Nothing must keep me, 

Mrs. Cam. What object is there in your going? 

Philos. The welfare of seven hundred and sixty 
poor souls who trust to me. 

Cynthia. Don't decide now. Let it wait. {Giving 
back telegrams.') Your lunch — it's waiting in that 
room. Una, lunch. {To Philos.) You won't go? 
{Imploringly.) 

Philos. If I don't, who will ? 

Una {suddenly) . I will ! Let me take them ! 

Dick. You ! Impossible ! An emigrant ship is no 
place for a lady. 

Una. I'm not much of a lady. I'm a good deal 
of a woman. I'm safe amongst the miners of Nor- 
thumberland, and amongst the thieves of the East End. 

Dick. But you wouldn't be safe in the Avenger. 
It's the rottenest old tub — 

Una. And you want Mr. Ingarfield to go ! {To 
Philos.) Did you hear? You won't go in that ship ? 

Philos. Yes. Don't fear. 

{\J^ A pauses, looks at him, then exit left.) 
(Philos is going after her.) 

Cynthia {stopping him). Surely you won't risk 
your life. The ship is dangerous — 

Philos {shakes his head, smiles, ivith calm assur- 
ance). No ship will sink with me while my work 
remains undone. {Exit door left.) 



ACT I THE CRUSADERS 29 

Dick {aside). He'll go. And if I don't bowl him 
out before he comes back — 

(Cynthia has watched Ingarfield off left ; 
stands at door zvatching.) 

Worrell e?iters door rights announces Mr. Figg, Mr. 
BuRGE Jawle. 

FiGG, a dapper, polite, insinuating, finicky, facile, plausi- 
ble, bald man of forty, enters right, followed by Burge 
Jawle, afat,jati7idiced, heazy, torpid, olive-complex- 
ioned man of fifty ; he waddles slowly down stage 
after Figg. Cynthia closes door left, conies to centre 
of stage, meets Figg. Exit Worrell right. 

Figg. How d'ye do? {Shaking hands with Cyn- 
THM.) You asked me to bring our great social 
philosopher, Mr. Burge Jawle. 

(Jawle zvaddles down slowly in an uncon- 
cerned, torpid way.) 

Figg {introducing) . Mrs. Greenslade. 

Cynthia. How d'ye do? {Offering hand.) 

Jawle {ivaddles up, puts his heazy fat paw in 
Cynthia's hand, speaks in a heavy drawl zvithout any 
animation or excitement). Thank you. I am as 
usual. My health is never robust. My vital processes 
are extremely slow. I nourish myself with great 
difficulty. {Holding Cynthia's ha7id — a slight pause ^ 

Cynthia {a little embarrassed). I'm sorry — 



30 THE CRUSADERS act i 

Jawle. Standing fatigues me. I think I'll sit down. 

{^Looks I'oiind.') 
(Lord Burnham rises, offo's his chai?-.) 

Jawle {looks at if, looks all round, spies a veiy 
comfortable arjjichair down in corner^. No — that 
chair seems to be especially adapted to my require- 
ments. ( Waddles very slowly down, seats himself with 
g7'eat precision, leans back, places his hands on his 
stomach, sits placidly absorbed, utterly oblivious of what 
is going on.) 

Palsa:m ( To Figg — Cynthia listening) . You were 
saying that Mr. Jawle's social philosophy will assist us 
in reforming London. 

Figg (confdently) . You can't reform London with- 
out it. He has devoted his whole life to it, and he is 
at this moment absolutely penniless. The herd do 
not understand Jawle. By the way (dropping his 
voice) you could not put Mr. Greenslade's bequest to 
a better use than by substantially rewarding Jawle's 
immense services to humanity. 

Cynthia. Of course if his philosophy helps us to 
reform London, we ought to pay him for it. Would he 
accept — 

Figg. I'll put it delicately to him. I think I can 
conquer his scruples. (Jawle. gives vent to a peculiar 
melancholy chuckle^ still sitting sttblimely unconscious 
in his armchair.) Look ! ( Calls everybody s atten- 
tion to Jawle, who continues to sit unmoved, with his 
fat hands on his stomach. All look ^/ Jawle.) He's 



ACT I THE CRUSADERS 31 

often like that for hours ! He has that rare faculty 
of burying himself ! He's quite unaware of our pres- 
ence ! We might discuss his whole "system of philos- 
ophy without his knowing it. 

Palsam {uiJio has been anxiously waiting to question 
Figg). Are you quite sure his principles have an 
improving tendency for young men ? 

Figg {glibly). My dear sir, Jawle has swept away 
all the older philosophies entirely. Jawle's is the only 
rational system of ethics. 

Cynthia {dubiously) . What does he teach? 
Figg {same glib tone). Jawle's fundamental doc- 
trine is the immorality of marriage. 

{Great surprise on the part of Mrs. 
Campion- Blake and Cynthia. Palsam 
jumps up aghast. Dick and Lord 
Burnham chuckle. Jawle p7'e serves his 
attitude of placid self absorption in the 
armchair.) 
Lord Burnham {after the consternation has sub- 
sided — very quietly) . And what follows ? 
Palsam {much disturbed). What? 
Figg {bland, soothing). Pray don't misunderstand 
me. Jawle has no objection to marriage in itself, but 
only as the one great means of promoting human mis- 
ery. Jawle entertains equal objections to every other 
method of perpetuating the human race. Am I not 
right? {Crosses to Jawle, stands over his chair — 
rather loudly to Jawle, prompting him.) Marriage ! 



32 THE CRUSADERS act i 

Jawle {^faintly rouses himself^ speaks very senten- 
tiously and autlioritatively). There being an im- 
mense balance of misery and suffering in every human 
lot, it necessarily follows that marriage, as the chief 
means of increasing that misery and suffering, is 
a criminal and anti-social action. {Relapses into his 
seIf-absoj-ptio7i, takes no notice whatever of what is 
going on.) 

(Dick ajid Lord Burnham a?'e amused.) 

Cynthia {puzzled). But — if nobody married — 

FiGG {addresses himself to Palsam). I'm sure you 
agree with us, Mr. Palsam, that the rapid increase of 
the human herd is a matter for the gravest alarm — 

Palsam {^moodily). I've always thought there was 
far too great a propensity — I can't understand it ! 

FiGG. Jawle calculates that at the present rate the 
human race will infallibly exhaust every possible means 
of subsistence in six generations ! 

Palsam. Dear me ! Dear me ! What can be 
done? {Retires to fii'eplace, stands terribly distressed, 
his lips muttering occasionally^ 

FiGG. Jawle's system delivers us. {Smiling blandly 
all around.) I must persuade you all to become 
members of the Jawle guild. ( With proud satisfac- 
tion.) I founded the Jawle guild. I was the first to 
understand Jawle. Mrs. Greenslade, you'll join our 
guild ? 

Cynthia. Ye — es. What do you do? 

FiGG. We discuss Jawle's doctrines. Sometimes 



THE CRUSADERS 



33 



Jawle himself comes. But his health is very precari- 
ous, is it not? {appealing to Jawle. Jawle takes no 
notice. Yigg prompting ]as\i.-e. i?t a loud tone.) Your 
health. 

Jaw^le {arousing himself slightly as before'). Yes; 
my vital processes are so abnormally slow that at any 
moment it may become advisable to bring them to a 
conclusion. {Relapses into self-adso7ptiofi.) 

(Cynthia looks inquiringly at Figg for an 
explanation.) 
Figg {in a low, reverential tone) . Jawle advocates 
the forcible and abrupt extinction of human life in 
certain cases — his own included. 
Cynthia {alarmed) . Not suicide ? 
Figg {reverently). We trust he won't consider it 
necessary till he has completed his social philosophy. 
Cynthia. Oh ! {Leans back in her chair, bewil- 
dered, gazing at Jawle, luho preserves his attitude of 
impenetrable self r absorption . ) 

(Dick, Lord Burnham, and Mrs. Campion- 
Blake have been talking together.) 
Mrs. Cam. {gushingly to Lord Burnham). I'm sure 
you can persuade the Duchess of Launceston to join 
us. It's so necessary that the reformation of London 
should be done by our own class, and not allowed to 
fall into the hands of agitators — 

{During Mrs. Campion- Blake's speech, Wor- 
rell has entei-ed on stairs right and come 
down to foot of staircase^ 

D 



34 THE CRUSADERS act i 

Worrell {rather alarmed) . I beg pardon, madam 
— the three parties upstairs — 

Mrs. Caial (/<? Lord Burnham) . Our workingmen 
members — 

Cynthia. Well ? 

Worrell. They're using coarse language to each 
other, and one of the parties has assumed a threaten- 
ing attitude towards the other two parties. 

{A great smash heard off.) 
(Worrell goes quickly upstairs and off right, 

followed by Cynthia, Dick, andYico.^ 
(Mrs. Campion- Blake and Lord Burnham 
rise. Palsaim stands ufidecided.) 
Lord Burnhaini. I'm afraid our workingmen mem- 
bers have not learnt drawing-room methods of reform- 
ing London. {Looking at watch.) I must be going. 
Mrs. Cam. No — you must attend one committee- 
meeting, and start us ! Just one ! 

Lord Burnham {going off left ivith Mrs. Campion- 
Blake) . Very well — just one, but only one. 
{Exeunt Mrs. Campion-Blake and Lord Burnham.) 
(Jawle has preserved an attitude of impene- 
trable calm, has not 7noved a muscle all 
through ; he sits with hands placidly resting 
on stomach, a7id gives vent to his melancholy 
chuckle. Palsam has made a movement 
up stage to follow the others, but hearing 
Jawle, hesitates, fidgets down to Jawle, 
evidently anxious to question him.) 



ACT I THE CRUSADERS 35 

Palsam {fidgeting round Jawle). I'm deeply in- 
terested in your proposal for legislating against this 
terrible increase of the human race. 

Jawle {shaking his head slowly). I've no faith in 
legislation. 

Palsam. Perhaps a course of public meetings and 
lectures — 

Jawle {shaking his head). I've no faith in public 
meetings and lectures. 

Palsam {distressed). No? Perhaps talking to 
people — that's my way ; when I see anybody doing 
anything wicked I talk to them. 

Jawle. I've no faith in talking to people. 

Palsam {plaintively) . Dear me ! Then what is 
to be done ? 

Jawle {authoritatively, with solemn conviction). 
Nothing can be done ! 

FiGG {has entered on stairs). Jawle, the London 
Reformation Committee is just going to sit. I want 
you to give them your views. 

Jawle {rising with gi'eat difficulty, to Palsam). I'll 
trouble you for your arm. {Ykl&kisI gives it, and helps 
Jawle up stage to staircase.) 

Jawle {to Figg on staircase). I'm not prepared 
for any large expenditure of vital force this afternoon. 
( Waddling up with Palsam.) 

Figg. No ; you can just prove to them in a dozen 
words that they are utterly wrong and mistaken in all 
they're doing. That's all that's necessary. 



36 THE CRUSADERS act i 

Enter Philos, door left, with telegrams. Palsam, going 
upstairs with Jawle, turns and calls to Philos. 

Palsam. Mr. Ingarfield, in talking to Lord Burn- 
ham just now, you didn't lash the vices of high life. 
Think how much good it would do if we could make 
an example of somebody. 

(Philos, absorbed, takes no ftotice. Exeunt 
Palsam, Jawle, and Figg j/pstairs, and 
off righ t. Una enters left. ) 

Philos {reading telegrajns) . Either I must forsake 
them and leave them to perish, or I must go through 
with it. And yet, how shall I leave her? {Seeing 
Una.) Well, comrade? 

Una {shakes her head sadly). I'm not your com- 
rade now. 

Philos. Yes, my comrade, my sister always. 

Una. No, I was your comrade three years ago, on 
that Sunday evening in the old garden when you first 
told my father and me all your dreams and plans. 
Ah ! those old days ! They'll never come again. 
How mad we were ! 

{Laughs a little bitterly, goes two or three 
steps down stage, 7'ight.) 

Philos {rises, follows he?-). These days are better. 
There's nothing changed. 

Una. Yes, the wind has {ivith a little shiver). 
You'll go to Costa Rica? 

Philos. I musto 



ACT I THE CRUSADERS 37 

Una. And leave your work here to — your com- 
rade? {Glancing up at him for a mo?nent.) 

Philos {tefiderly) . Yes, to you — and to — 

Una {going away from hint). No, not to me ; I 
mean to your new comrade. 

(Cynthia comes down stairs, right.) 

Philos {sees Cynthia) . Hush ! 

Una {running past him towards stairs, with a 
laugh). Good luck to you and your new comrade ! 
(Cynthia comes down centre, rather indig- 
nantly, taking no notice of Una, flings 
herself rather angrily into chair.) 

Philos {goes to Cynthia, bends over her). What 
is it? 

Una {going upstairs, peeps through curtains ; aside, 
bitterly). She won't be his comrade for three years. 

{Exit.) 

Philos {bending over Cynthia). What has dis- 
pleased you ? 

Cynthia. Everything. They're quarrelling hke 
bears. Oh, I'm tired of them ! They're silly, and 
fussy, and selfish. You are the only one of us 
whose heart is in the work. All the money is legally 
mine. Take it all ! Carry out your plans your own 
way ! 

Philos. Mrs. Greenslade — if I dared tell you. 

Cynthia. What ? 

Philos. Perhaps you would despise me. 

Cynthia. Despise you? 



38 THE CRUSADERS act i 

Philos. I will tell you. In two days I shall have 
left England. 

Cynthia. You must go? {Qi/ickly^ anxiously.^ 

Philos. Would you have me stay? 

i^She looks at him, says nothing, tiij-ns, sits 
on sofa.) 

Philos. Ah ! you don't know what mid hopes you 
raise in me ! I love you ! (Cynthia's face shows 
gj-eat satisfaction and pride through all the speech.) 
You're life, and food, and air, and summer, and sun, 
and strength, and breath to me. Your presence is 
my very heaven. I love you ! I have loved you 
ever since — ah, I must tell you — from the moment 
I saw you my life was changed ! Before my heart was 
aware of it, I loved you ; before I dared breathe it to 
myself! (^Dropping his voice.) When you belonged 
to him I found a secret passion in my soul I could 
not kill. I strove against it, but it would rebel against 
me and live. Don't think me willingly base. Be 
sure my least thought has never sullied you. Be sure 
I would have gone through fire rather than breathe it 
to you. {Pause, calmer.) I could not crush it, so 
I turned its course. The love it would have been 
sacrilege and infamy to offer to you, I tried to fling 
broadcast among mankind,, for your sake. You gave 
me new hopes, new ideals, new resolves. It was you 
that filled me with this great scheme. Your lips 
breathed it to me when you spoke the simplest words. 
My dream has been to make this great city wear 



ACT I THE CRUSADERS 39 

some image of your beauty, catch some reflection 
from you, and be a fit resting-place for you, that 
you might breathe its air for a moment as you passed 
by. 

Cynthia {highly gratified, softly). I hke you to 
speak hke this. How you love me ! You make me 
feel I could do anything if you were beside me. Oh, 
let me help you ! What can I do? 

Philos. You love me ! {She looks down ; he takes 
her hand.) I know you do ! Take up my work while 
I am away from England. 

Cynthia {painted). Oh, but I don't want you to 
leave me ! 

Philos {veiy tenderly). You don't wish me to do 
my duty? 

Cynthla.. Yes, of course, but I don't want you to 
leave me. 

Philos {after a pause, sad, resigned). Til stay. 

Cynthia. No, — go ! I won't say another word. 

Philos. Una Dell will help us. She's beaten gold. 

Cynthia. I don't want any one to help you except 
me. I want it to be all our work. 

Philos. Let it be ours ; but if you need a coun- 
sellor at any time, go to her. 

Cynthia. How long shall you be away ? 

Philos. Six months at most. 

Cynthia. Oh, but that's eternity ! It's cruel of 
you. Must you go ? 

ViiiLO?> {after a pause) . No, I'll stay. {Sighs.) 



40 TflE CRUSADERS act i 

Cynthia. No, no ; it's selfish of me. 

Philos. It's selfish of me to ask you to share such 
a life as mine. Have you counted the cost? It will 
not be easy. 

Cynthia. You doubt me? I'll take any vow, any 
promise — 

Philos. There is no need of that. 

Cynthia. You trust me? 

Philos. As my own soul. When I return it will 
be to claim my bride ? 

Cynthia. There's my hand ; it's yours. 

Philos {takes it^ kisses it re%)erently, whispers'). 
Your lips ? {She bends toiuards him ; he is about to 
kiss her.) No. I would have you still above me, 
still out of my reach. And let it show how sacred 
was my love for you, that lest there should be the 
least dishonour in my first love for you, I will not kiss 
your lips till I return. You'll keep that kiss for me ? 

Cynthia. Till you return to claim your bride. 

{He kisses her hand again 7'everently.) 

Curtain falls. 

{Fifteen months pass between Acts I. and II.) 



ACT II 



Scene — The Cottages and Rose-farm at Wimbledon. 

Two deeply thatched cottages, one on left side running from 
footlights up to back of stage; the other and larger one is built 
diagonally across stage on the right. They are both very quaint 
and old-fashioned, and are completely smothered in roses of all 
kinds. 

Roses everywhere about the garden. 

Doors leading into each cottage. 

An arch of roses stretches from one cottage to another at 
back. 

Garden seats and an old tree-trunk down stage. 

It is the height of summer. 

A summer sunset at the beginning of act; moonlight during 
the later part. 

Enter Dick /« evening dress fro?n door of cottage at 
back, comes down to back of garden seat, looks tip 
at balcony. 

Dick. How much longer do you mean to keep me 
dangling after you, madam? I've wasted fifteen 
months on your committee, and I've neither reformed 
London, nor unreformed you. ( Walking up towards 

41 



42 THE CRUSADERS act ii 

balcony.^ I wonder whether she knows where that 
Ingarfield fellow really is. He's been back m Eng- 
land more than a week. I've bowled him out. But 
when does my innings begin? (^Looking round. ^ I've 
a good mind to risk it to-night. ( Going icp balcony, 
steps cautiously.') 

Enter from cottage at back Lord Burnham in evening 
dress, ivith telegrams and despatches in hand, evi- 
dently excited and in bad temper. 

Dick {^on balcony, opens window) . Window open ! 
Her room ! {^Looks in, coj?ies back to front.) It's 
too bad to throw temptation in my way hke this ! 

Lord Burnham {^turning in vexation, catches sight 
^/Dick). Dick! 

Dick {surprised, comes huniedly down). Sir? 

Lord Burnham. What the devil are you doing 
there ? 

Dick {lamely) . I was just a — {seeing the despatches 
in Lord Burnham's hand). More bad news from 
Costa Rica, sir? 

Lord Burnham. I wish Costa Rica was at the 
bottom of the sea ! 

Dick {following him). Who could have imagined 
that confounded Ingarfield would have got us into 
such a mess with the Costa Rica Government? 

Lord Burnham. Who could have imagined any- 
thing else? {Sitting on garden seat.) 



ACT II THE CRUSADERS 43 

Dick. We can't really be liable. 

Lord Burnham. We gave a guarantee that he 
should look after his damned ne'er-do-wells. Well, 
naturally the Costa Rica Government say the ne'er- 
do-wells weren't looked after, or the rioting and plun- 
dering would never have happened ; and we shall 
have to pay four or five million damages. 

Dick {cheerfully). There must be some way out 
of it. International law is so jolly foggy. Can't we 
bring a big claim against Costa Rica for unlawfully 
imprisoning Ingarfield ? 

Lord Burnham. It was his escape that was un- 
lawful. They're demanding we should send him back 
to stand his trial. 

Dick. Well, let's catch him, and send him back, 
and tell them to take it out of him. 

Lord Burnham. So I would, but the political 
dissenters have taken it up, and they're making a hero 
and a martyr of Ingarfield. This country would be 
easy to govern if it were not for the pohtical dis- 
senters. They're calling mass- meetings against the 
government everywhere, — Manchester to-morrow, 
Newcastle on Thursday. {Rises angrily, comes up to 
Dick.) Now understand me, I've had enough of this 
tomfoolery ! 

Dick. You don't call reforming London, tomfool- 
ery, sir? 

Lord Burnham. Reform my grandmother ! 

Dick. Well, sir, you're President, and if you bring 



44 THE CRUSADERS act ii 

forward a comprehensive scheme of ancestral im- 
provement, I daresay we can work it in. 

Lord Burnham {hurt). It's good taste to jeer at 
me, Dick, after having ruined my reputation before 
the country ! 

Dick. I beg your pardon, sir. 

Lord Burnham. Then don't disgrace me any 
further ! 

Dick. What do you mean? 

Lord Burnham. You're a married man. People 
are talking about you and Mrs. Greenslade. 

Dick. On my honour, there's been no more than 
a harmless flirtation. 

Lord Burnham. Then break it off, give up your 
house down here, come back to town with me to- 
night, and don't see her any more. 

Dick {shuffling away). I can't come back to-night. 

Lord Burnham. You won't? I haven't been a 
bad father to you, Dick. 

Dick. I promise you, sir, there shall be no occa- 
sion for any future gossip about me and that lady. 
( Holds out hand. ) 

Lord Burnham {looks at him). I believe you. 
{Takes hand, shakes it cordially^ And we'll give up 
reforming London. I've had enough of it. I shall 
resign at once. If we could only find where this 
fellow Ingarfield is ! Read those. ( Giving telegrams 
and despatches to Dick, who goes to seat and reads 
them.) 



ACT II THE CRUSADERS 45 

Cynthia ifi evening dress, without wrap, enters from 
cottage at back, comes down. 

Lord Burnham. I wish the Costa Rica people 
had hanged him — 

Dick. Eh? 

Lord Burnham. By mistake. They could have 
apologised for it. 

Cynthia. What's the matter, Lord Burnham? 

Lord Burnham. I'm very sorry, Mrs. Greenslade, 
that we ever tried our hand at improving this very 
excellent planet, just as it was revolving on its own 
axis so comfortably. 

Cynthia. You've heard of the public meeting. 

Lord Burnham. At Newcastle? 

Cynthia. Newcastle ? No ; here in Wimbledon. 

Lord Burnham. Wimbledon? 

Cynthia. The residents have summoned a public 
meeting calling upon us to remove the rose-farm, 
because they say the rose-farming girls have not 
been behaving nicely, and are spoiling the neighbour- 
hood. 

Lord Burnham. They don't put it down to the 
government ? 

Cynthia. No ; not at present. 

Lord Burnham. That's lucky. I must resign my 
presidency before they do. 

Cynthia. Oh, you won't desert us just as every- 
thing is going wrong ! 



46 THE CRUSADERS act ii 

Lord Burnham. I'm afraid I must. 

Dick {aside, looking at Cynthia). She's more 
charming than ever. What a fool I was to promise 
to give her up ! I won't ! 

Lord Burnham. You told me Mr. Ingarfield might 
be here to-night. 

Cynthia {embarrassed). I thought he might be. 
{Turns away.) 

Lord Burnham. You've not seen him since his 
return from Costa Rica? 

Cynthia. No. 

Lord Burnham. It would be wise for him to meet 
me. 

Cynthia. Why won't you tell me if the Govern- 
ment will send him back to stand his trial ? 

Lord Burnham. I must not pledge myself. Are 
you in personal communication with him ? 

Cynthia. No ; but I could send him a message. 

Lord Burnham. Tell him I wish to see him at 
once in your presence — 

Cynthia. In my presence? 

Lord Burnham. Is there any objection? 

Cynthia. No. When and where shall it be ? 

Lord Burnham. If I could see him before the 
Cabinet meeting to-morrow afternoon. Would to- 
morrow at eleven here be convenient to you? 

Cynthia. Yes. {Aside.) I shall have to meet 
him ! {Looks rather perplexed.) 



ACT II THE CRUSADERS 47 

Palsam /';/ evening dress enters from cottage at back, 
comes gingerly down. 

(Dick has risen, brings telegrams and de- 
spatches to Lord Burnham.) 

Dick. What's to be done, sir? 
Lord Burnham. Resign, go to the country, and 
get kicked out. ( Catching sight of Palsam.) Here's 
that Httle mongrel ! {Hurries to garden seat, sits and 
assumes profound interest in the despatches.) 

(Dick hurriedly crosses over to Cynthia, 

talks with her.) 
(Palsaim looks on each side to see whom he 
shall victimise. ) 

Worrell enters fro?n cottage at back with coffee on 
tray, coifies down to Cynthia and Dick, gives them 
coffee. 

(Palsam finally decides to victimise Lord 
Burnham, co77ies to back of garden seat, 
leans amiably over to Lord Burnham, who 
is profoundly occupied with his despatches?) 
(Cynthia and Dick take coffee from Wor- 
rell.) 

Palsam {^coughs, fidgets, then in a very insinuating 
way) . How very terrible these recent turf-frauds are, 
my lord ! 

Lord Burnham (without looking up) . Shocking ! 
Shocking ! 



48 THE CRUSADERS act ii 

Palsam. And one of your trainers was concerned. 

Lord Burnham. Was he ? 

Palsam {in his pleasantest manner, with a sweet 
insinuating smile). Can't I tempt you to give up 
horse-racing, my lord ? 

Lord Burnham {with affable contempt, in quite an 
indifferent tone). I don't think so, Mr. Palsam. I 
don't think so. {Calls T)ick from Cynthia, takes him 
a step or two up stage.) 

(^^^ORRELL crosses with coffee to Palsam.) 

Lord Burnham {poijiting out something in despatch 
as if calling Dick's attentio7i to it, in a low tone to 
Dick). If somebody doesn't kick Palsam, I shall. 
( Pockets despa tch es . ) 

Dick. I think I would. {Talks to Cynthia.) 

Cynthia {to Worrell, who is going up stage). 
Worrell ! (Worrell stops. Palsaisi watches Worrell 
suspiciously.) 

Cynthia. Ask Victorine to bring my lace shawl. 

Worrell. Yes, madam. 

{Exit i?ifo cottage right, watched by Palsam, 
who the moment he has gone off, turns to 
Cynthia.) 

Palsam. Is that — quite — prudent ? 

Cynthia {blankly). What? 

Palsam. There was quite a guilty look on his face 
when you mentioned Victorine. 

Cynthia {stai-es at Palsam, calmly) . What do you 
mean, Mr. Palsam? 



ACT 11 THE CRUSADERS 



49 



Palsam {quickly, nervously). Oh, I don't positively 
accuse him ; but she is French, you know. 
Cynthia. Worrell is a most respectable man. 
Palsam {eagerly). That's it ! that's it ! You never 
know what's underneath outward respectability. 

Cynthia {rises^ calmly indignant). I don't wish to 
know. 

Palsam {aside). There's something wrong going 
on here. I feel it's my duty to miss my last train and 
find out what it is. I will ! 

(ViCTORiNE, a smart, good-looking French 
maid, enters from cottage at back with 
Cynthia's shawl.) 

ViCTORiNE. Madame's shawl. 

(Dick takes shawl from Victorine and goes 
down to Cynthia with it. Palsam watches 
Victorine very closely. Dick wraps shawl 
round C\^thl4.) 

Victorine. Which cottage will madame please to 
occupy to-night ? 

Cynthl\. My own, Victorine. 

(Dick, who is cloaking Cynthia, shows he 
notices this.) 

Worrell enters, collects coffee cups, waits. 

Victorine. And Madame Blake ? 
Cynthu. Mrs. Blake will stay as usual in her own 
rooms in the visitors' cottage. 
e 



50 THE CRUSADERS act ii 

Palsam {aside). That creature is asking those 
questions for some purpose. {To Cynthia.) Don't 
you find it very inconvenient having visitors here? 

Cynthia. Rather, the cottages being divided. 

Palsam. How do you arrange the — a — accom- 
modation ? 

Cynthia. I reserve that cottage {pointing Jeff) 
entirely for my lady visitors, and I send my gentle- 
men to the httle inn — it's very comfortable. My 
own rooms and the reception-rooms are all on that 
side. {Pointing right.) Why ? 

Palsam. Oh, nothing, nothing. ( Watching Vic- 
TORiNE a7id Worrell.) 

Worrell {has been watching his chance to speak to 
Cynthlv). Mr. Portal is in the drawing-room, 
madam, and would like to see you and Lord Burn- 
ham. 

Lord Burnh.a.m. See me? 

Cynthla. He is the curate here. I suppose he 
has come about the rose-farmers. 

Palsam {all alive with curiosity). We'd better 
all go into the drawing-room. My lord — if you'll 
come — 

Lord Burnham. Thank you. I'm very comfort- 
able where I am. {Seated with Cynthia.) 

Cynthia. Show Mr. Portal to us here. 

{Exit Worrell at back.) 

Victorine {waiting). Madame has no further 
commands? 



ACT II THE CRUSADERS 51 

Cynthia. Wait for me in my sitting-room down- 
stairs, Victorine. (^Jt://' Victorine at back.) 

Palsam. It's terrible to think what may have been 
going on at this rose-farm in our absence. This 
matter must be thoroughly probed. (/;/ great g/ee.) 
We mustn't shrink from knowing the truth merely 
because it may be shocking and disgusting. {Fuss- 
ing — all alert.) 

Enter Worrell at hack, showing in the Rev. Alger- 
non Portal, a bland curate, with lank, sandy 
hair, and precise, rather nervous manners. 

y^OK^YiA. {announces). Mr. Portal ! {Exit.) 

Portal {7vith precise, nervous, cordial manner). 
My dear Mrs. Greenslade, Pve taken the really un- 
pardonable liberty of calling at this hour because 
I heard that Lord Burnham was with you. {Nervous 
little chuckle — looking at Lord Burnham.) 

Cynthia {pirsents). Mr. Portal — Lord Burnham. 

Portal. I am charged to convey to you a very 
important decision arrived at by the inhabitants of 
Wimbledon with respect to these young persons em- 
ployed on your rose-farm — 

Palsam {very distressed and agitated). Dear me ! 
dear me ! 

Portal {glances at Palsam sympathisingly). Yes, 
it is indeed a painful subject. {Turns to Lord Burn- 
ham.) I thought it might be advantageous to you. 



52 THE CRUSADERS act ii 

Lord Burnharn, to know that unless the rose-farm is 
immediately removed from Wimbledon, our member 
will question the Home Secretary on the subject. I 
need not add the inhabitants of Wimbledon are warm 
supporters of the Government, but — really — you — 
a — understand. {Ends in a little nervous clmckle.) 

Lord Burnham. Not quite. Who is aggrieved ? 

Portal. The better class of residents in Wimble- 
don. I have had constant complaints. 

Balsam. Dear me ! 

Portal {looks sympathisingly at Palsam). Ye-es ! 
{Turns to Lord Burnham.) Wimbledon being a 
respectable residential neighbourhood, of course the 
mission of the Church in a respectable neighbourhood 
is — a — naturally to attend to the needs of the re- 
spectable residential — a — a — residents, and really, 
when a quantity of badly behaved persons are brought 
into a respectable neighbourhood, I am sure, my lord, 
you'll agree with me that a — it is — a — {ncriwus 
little chuckle') a — most embarrassing. 

Lord BuRNHA^L Decidedly, Mr. Portal, wicked 
people are very embarrassing, and the question what 
to do with them — both in this world and the next — 
is beset with difficulties. 

Cynthia. But we have engaged most respectable 
matrons. 

Portal. I fear you cannot rely upon them. 

Palsam. I knew those matrons weren't to be 
trusted. 



THE CRUSADERS 



53 



Portal. The most extraordinary conduct is fre- 
quent. 

Palsam. Dear me ! dear me ! 

Portal. I have myself witnessed — a — 

Palsam {eagej'/y) . Yes — what ? 

Portal. Some very indecorous behaviour. 

Palsainl Could you point out the young per- 
sons? 

Portal. There is one in particular. She is known 
amongst her companions as the Queen of the Mar- 
shal Niels. 

Cynthla.. But that's our model girl ! 

Dick (/la// aside) . What must all the rest be like ! 

Palsam. My lord, this is terrible, and I think you, 
as President — 

Lord Burnha^l I trust I shall not be held respon- 
sible for the very natural consequences of taking these 
poor, ignorant women from a state of semi-starvation, 
feeding them well, and turning them loose in a place 
like this. Excuse me, Mr. Portal {rises), I cannot 
consider this as any business of mine {taking out 
cigar-case, selecting cigar) . 

Palsa^l Oh, my lord, when anything wicked is 
taking place, it's everybody's business — it's your 
business, it's my business — 

Lord Burnhai^l Ah, well, then, perhaps you'll be 
good enough to attend to it while I smoke my cigar. 
( Exit along garden path . ) 

Palsam. Mr. Portal, we must look into this at 



54 THE CRUSADERS act ii 

once. If you'll come with me, I'll conduct you to 
these young women's quarters, ^lis. Greenslade, per- 
haps you'll accompany us, and then we can thoroughly 
discuss all the particulars. 

Cyxthia. I really can't leave my guests. 

Palsam. Come along, Mr. Portal. {Fortal joins 
him at back of seat ; affectionately links his ann in 
Portal's, and takes him up to archway at back. As 
they aj-e going off, looks up at Portal.) Of what 
nature was this indecorous behaviour? 

(^Exit zuith Portal voy slowly at archway^ 

(Dick watches Palsam off, comes to back of seat.) 

Dick. Mrs. Greenslade — 

Cynthl\. Well? 

Dick. I've promised my father to break it off. 

Cynthl\. Break what off? 

Dick. My attachment to you. 

C\'NTHiA. Shall you keep your promise ? 

Dick. Yes — after to-morrow. 

Cynthl\. Why not to-night ? 

Dick {approaching her passionately). Because this 
place was built on purpose to play Romeo and 
Juliet — 

Cynthia. Indeed it wasn't ; it was built for a farm- 
house. 

Dick {passionately) . Cynthia ! 

Cyxthl\. Take care ! Mrs. Blake can see us. 

Dick {following her). I've followed you like a 
spaniel, and how have you rewarded me? 



THE CRUSADERS 



55 



Cynthia. I've given you thousands of civil words, 
hundreds of smiles, dozens of roses, and several pres- 
sures of the hand. 

Dick. Do you call that rewarding? 

Cynthia. You talk of "rewarding"? You don't 
know what love means. 

Mrs. Campion- Blake eiiters from cottage, door right. 

Dick. Cynthia, for Heaven's sake don't play cat 
and mouse with me any longer ! Tell me, is there 
any hope ? (^Leaning over the seat close to her.) 

(Mrs. Campion-Blake comes down behind Dick.) 

Mrs. Cam. Bad children ! (Dick steps backwards, 
Cynthl^ shows a little confusion^ Bad children ! 
{To Dick.) Run away ! I want to speak to Mrs. 
Greenslade. {More commandingly.) Run away ! I'm 
ashamed of you ! ( Conies left of seat beside Cynthia.) 
(Dick exits sulkily right.) 

Mrs. Cam. {very reprovingly). Now, my dear, this 
must positively stop ! 

Cynthia {innocently) . What must ? 

Mrs. Cam. Don't fence ! If Mr. Palsam finds out 
anything, what will be the end of it ? 

Cynthia. Oh, Mr. Palsam is so busy suspecting all 
the innocent people, he has no time to attend to — 
{Stops, confused.) 

Mrs. Cam. The guilty ! 

Cynthia. No — no, indeed ! 



56 THE CRUSADERS act ii 

Mrs. Cam. Well, shall we say — the not proven ? 

Cynthia. But you encouraged Mr. Rusper's visits. 

Mrs. Cam. I know I did. I wanted him and his 
father to join the League. How was I to know that 
you would be so foolish as to allow him to make love 
to you ? However, now that the Duchess of Launces- 
ton has joined us, we can do very well without them. 
The Duchess is the dearest woman ! the sweetest 
woman ! — I never met with any woman with whom I 
had so much real sympathy as the Duchess ! — but she 
is just a little bit prudish, and I wouldn't have that 
dear creature's name connected with the faintest breath 
of scandal. 

Cynthia (a little hotly) . You need not fear. There 
will be no scandal. 

Mrs. Cam. That's precisely what Lady Barringer 
said the very night before she eloped with her groom. 
Now, my dear, for the Duchess's sake as well as for 
your own, you must give Mr. Rusper his conge. Be- 
sides, wasn't there some kind of an understanding 
between you and Mr. Ingarfield? {Watching Cyn- 
thia closely.) 

Cynthia {rather confused). No — at least — I 
did think I cared for him, but that was more than 
a year ago. 

Mrs. Ca:m. He has no claim on you? 

Cynthu. No — except — well, I was fooHsh enough 
to promise him one kiss when he returned from Costa 
Rica, but I meant at the end of a few weeks or months. 



ACT II THE CRUSADERS 57 

and I didn't suppose that everything was going wrong 
as it has done. 

Mrs. Cam. Just so ! We must reorganise the 
reformation of London on a totally new basis. Burn- 
ham wants to resign. We'll let him. Mr. Palsam 
and Mr. Ingarfield must both be got rid of, and we 
must take the matter in our own hands. 

Cynthia. Whose hands? 

Mrs. Cam. Yours and mine, with the Duchess for 
President. And then we shall reform London in real 
earnest. 

Cynthla. But the Duchess is very high church, 
and Mr. Greenslade detested high church. 

Mrs. Cam. My dear, poor Mr. Greenslade was not 
in a fit mental state to be able to judge ; it requires 
a very profound intellect to understand such things. 
Depend on it, it's the only way. 

(Cynthia walks slowly to right and plucks roses.) 

Mrs. Cam. {lookhig at Cynthia). Ingarfield will 
spoil everything again if he interferes. He must be 
got rid of somehow ! The Duchess would never en- 
dure him ! {Exit into cottage, left.) 

Cynthia. Throw over Mr. Ingarfield ! I wish 
Una Dell would come. I wonder if my letter reached 
her. {Goes up to balcony-steps behind seat.) 

Enter at back Burge Jawle and Figg in evening dress. 

Jawle {continues his discou?^se as he waddles down 
stage. Figg brings cushion to seat, very obsequious 



58 THE CRUSADERS act ii 

and attentive) . Yes, the feminine nature is essentially 
vile, small, narrow, malignant, treacherous — {J>a7/ses, 
surveys the different seats, sees comfortable corner). 
I think I will occupy that seat. ( Waddles up to it, 
arranges his cushion, makes himself comfortable.) I 
have not assimilated that cold veal pie I had for 
breakfast yesterday morning. {Tapping his chest.) 

FiGG. No. I've never been able to understand 
the rabid admiration current in artistic circles for 
what is nauseously termed the female form divine. 

Jawle {a?'7'anging his cushion). True! {Leans, 
comfortably.) The natural outline of the female figure 
is hideous and repellant in the extreme. 

Cynthm {comes down to seat ivith her rose). What 
are you saying, Mr. Jawle? 

Jawle. The truth. Take your own case. You are 
supposed to have considerable personal attractions. 
Analyse your personal attractions. Take a microscope. 
Look at your hand. {Taking her hand.) What is it? 
A coarse, scaly epidermis, studded with huge bristles — 

Cynthia {angrily withdrawing her hand). But 
ladies' hands are not meant to be looked at under 
microscopes. 

Jawle. What are they meant for? 

Cynthia {looking at her hand, holding it up in front 
of her). To be kissed on great occasions. 

Jawle {shakes his head). Go a step further. 
Your so-called beauty is built up by the processes 
of nutrition. Follow the stages of nutrition — 



ACT II THE CRUSADERS 59 

Cynthia {disgusted). Oh, please not, just after 
dinner ! 

Jawle {to Figg). See how people resent the truth ! 
{Composes himself.) 

(Figg shrugs his shoulders and lifts his eye- 
brows in sympathy, rises, and goes down to 
Cynthia. Jawle composes himself , places 
his hands on his stomach, and goes into a 
revei'ie.) 
{Lights appear in the cottage windows^ 
Figg {to Cynthia). You mustn't be offended with 
him. We shall not have him with us long. 
Cynthia. What do you mean? 
Figg. He has finished the last volume of his social 
philosophy. By the way, what is the depth of that large 
pond at the end of the grounds ? 

Cynthia. From six to nine feet. Why? 
Figg. Nothing. He contemplated it for more 
than an hour this morning. I've always thought that 
the end would come by drowning. 

Cynthia. Surely Mr. Jawle is not in earnest? 
Figg (/;/ a tone of benevolent pity) . Not in earnest? 
Cynthia. At least he won't do it here? 
Figg {solemnly). Everything is prepared. I am 
his sole executor. 

{All the while Jawle remains in absorbed 
contemplatioji, quite regardless.) 
Cynthia {rather alarmed). Then, if there is the 
least danger of his doing anything so foolish and 



6o THE CRUSADERS act ii 

wicked, I beg you'll take him back to town to-night. 
Tell him so, please ! I really can't have it happen 
here. {Goes up, meets Lord Burnham, then co7nes 
down, and sits on rockwork /eft.) 

(FiGG goes over to Jawle, looks at hhn. Jawle 
rejnains sublimely imconscious. Figg as- 
sumes a worshipful attitude.) 
(Lord Burnham and Dick sti'oll on right, 
smoking. Dick sees Figg wo?'shipping 
Jawle, a7id stays at back of seat to look at 
Jawle.) 
Figg {to Dick). How wonderful! He has the 
rarest faculty for burying himself. 

Dick. Ah ! that'll come in useful when he com- 
mits suicide. {Strolls up to balcony steps, and sits 
and sfnokes.) 

Enter from archway at back Palsam, very excited and 
self-important. 

Palsam {coming on a step or tivo, calls off). This 
way, madam ! {very sternly) . 

Enter at archway the Queen of the Marshal Neils, 
a saucy, sly, pretty, commo7i London girl, in a smart 
cotton gown. She comes in with a great affectation of 
modesty and sha?nefacedness, curtseying profoundly 
all 7'ound. 

Palsam {calls off). You, madam, stay there till 
you're wanted. We shall require you, Mr. Portal. 



ACT II THE CRUSADERS 6i 

My lord, you said this was no business of yours — 
listen to this ! 

Portal comes in at archway rather bashfully ; Pal- 
SAM follows a step or two on his right, very severe 
and consequential. 

Palsam {inotions Queen to step forward). Now! 
The whole truth, and nothing but the truth ! 

Queen {coming forwaj-d, curtseying). Oh, if you 
please, sir, and kind ladies and gentlemen all, it's no 
denying there have been dreadful carryings on, and 
sich conduct as it's made my heart bleed for to see. 
But it isn't me ! It's all that Glory Deejohn ! 

Palsam. Take care, hussy ! I have the plainest 
evidence against you ! 

Queen. Have you, sir? 

Palsam {taking out pencil and pocketbook) . And I 
shall take down every word you say. 

Queen {snivel — snivel — and then a sudden out- 
burst of tears) . Oh, if you please, ladies and gentle- 
men, there never was a poor girl so worrited and 
buffeted with temptation as I've been ; and if I have 
give way at times, there have been other times when 
I've been quite a pattern ! 

Palsa^l a pattern ! 

Queen. Yes, sir. Ask any of the girls else. I've 
talked to 'em about the wickedness of their ways, till 
I've drawed streaming tears down their cheeks. And 



62 THE CRUSADERS act ii 

the bewtiful language I've used ! I'm sure the dear • 
good gentleman himself {glancing at Portal, ogling 
him) couldn't have used more bewtiful language than 
I did ! (Portal moves a little, coughs, blushes, and 
looks nervous.) Oh, sir {to Portal, with a renewed 
burst of tears), you would have been joyful if you 
could have heard me ! {Further embarrassment on the 
part of VoKYKL.) And several other dear, kind gentle- 
men have been quite struck with the pretty innocence 
of my ways. And now to stand here and be scorned 
and inspected by everybody ! {Again bursts ifito 
tears.) (Figg has beefi listening attentively to the 
foregoing proceedings. Jawle has been 
peifectly absorbed, his large bland face 
lifted upwards, quite regardless of what 
has take7i place ^ 

The Lady Gloire de Dijon efiters at left archway. 

Queen {recovering f-om her sobs). It can't be me, 
because my conscience always accuses me when I've 
done wrong, and my conscience don't accuse me a 
bit. It's a case of mistaken idemnity — it's that Glory 
Deejohn that's at the bottom of it. Oh, she is a 
real downright bad lot, that Glory Deejohn is ! If I 
was to tell you all — 

Palsam {encouragingly) . Go on ! go on ! 

{The Lady Gloire de Dijon runs doivn to 
the side of Palsam.) 

Lady Gloire {bursting in) , Ask her to tell you all 



ACT II THE CRUSADERS 63 

about 'erself ! Why, on'y last Sunday evening as ever 
was — 

Queen {very quickly). Oh ! oh ! oh ! Glory Dee- 
john, how can you stand there and tell such wicked 
falsehoods, and not be afraid as something'U happen 
to you ! Oh ! {appealing to Portal) . On'y fancy, 
good gentleman, on Sunday evening, after hstening 
to them lovely words as flowed from your lips — 
(Portal again shows embarrassment.) Oh ! I blush 
for you, Glory Deejohn ! — I blush for you ! 

Lady Gloire. Blush for yourself! {rushing at 
Queen.) 

Palsam {authoritatively) . Silence ! 

(Lady Gloire and Queen both make motions 
as if about to speak.) 
Palsam. Silence ! We all wish to learn (Lord 
Burnham takes out his watch) about last Sunday 
evening. 

Lord Burnham {stepping forward). Excuse me, 
I don't. I've only ten minutes to catch my train 
back to town. 

(Lady Gloire comes down to front of seat, 
and an angry dispute in dumb show takes 
place between her and the Queen.) 
Palsam. But, my lord, it's most important ! 
Lord Burnham. Thank you ; I think I can dis- 
pense with knowing what happened on Sunday even- 
ing. (Palsam, rather snubbed, goes to Queen and 
Lady Gloire, who are quarrelling.^ 



64 THE CRUSADERS act ii 

Lord Burnham {fakes an envelope out of pocket). 
Mrs. Greenslade. (Cynthia comes to him.) I've 
scribbled a few lines to Mr. Ingarfield. Will you see 
that he has them to-night ? 

Cynthia {taking letter, putting it in pocket). Yes, 
if possible. 

Lord Burnham. Thank you. 

Lady Gloire {loudly). Ask Miss Pattison else ! 

Queen. Well, ask Miss Pattison ! 

Lord Burnham. Dick, you'll come to the station 
with me ? 

Dick. Certainly, sir. 

Lord Burnham {goes to Portal). Good evening, 
Mr. Portal. You have my sincere sympathy in your 
efforts to preserve the respectability of Wimbledon. 

Portal. What would you recommend should be 
done with these young — a — persons ? 

Lord Burnham {glancing at the group of Palsam, 
Queen, and Lady Gloire). I should leave them 
entirely in Mr. Palsam's hands. 

Palsam. Silence ! I will subject Miss Pattison to 
a strict cross-examination. {Takes out watch.) I 
shall have time to question her before the rose-song 
is sung. Go back to the dormitories — at once ! 

{They pass in front of him, Lady Gloire 
first. Queen turns round and curtseys 
elaborately.) 

Queen {ogling Portal) . The dear good gentleman 
will stipify to my innocence ! 



ACT II THE CRUSADERS 65 

Portal {I'ery embarrassed). Really — I wasn't 
there ! {Exeunt Queen a?id Lady Gloire. Palsam 
follows fhe7n.) 
Palsam {pushes them off) . Go away, you hussies ! 

{They exeunt quarrelling.) 
Lord Burnham {turns to Cynthia). Are those 
our model girls ? 
Cynthia. Yes. 

Lord Burnham. I trust we haven't reformed the 
others. Come, Dick. 

{Exit. Cynthia has offered hand to Dick.) 

Dick. I'll say " Good night " on my way back from 

the station {dropping his voice to a low aside to her), 

if it must be said. {Looks at her meaningly. She 

Just glances at him and comes down to seat.) 

{Exit Dick.) 
{Pause. Lights in zvindow left. Portal 
goes towards Cynthia. Figg and Jawle 
have been watching. Jawle suddenly emits 
his gurgling, melancholy chuckle.) 
Cynthla. {rather sharply). What's the matter, Mr. 
Jawle ? 

Jawle {elated in his melancholy way). I cannot 
refrain from a smile when human nature illustrates my 
theories. 

Portal {rather embarrassed, to Cynthia). I'm 
sure you will see that a residential neighbourhood Hke 
Wimbledon is scarcely the place for rose-farmers. 
Cynthia. But where can I take them ? 

F 



66 THE CRUSADERS act ii 

Portal. I should say there are remote country- 
parishes where they would be quite — quite a wel- 
come addition to the population. I'll call for your 
decision next Wednesday, before the meeting. In 
the meantime, good evening ! {Exit at back.) 

(Jawle emits another melancholy chuckle.) 

FiGG {coming to Qx^tylipC). Oh, by the way, I've 
persuaded Jawle to accept that other two hundred 
pounds to pubhsh the last volume of his philosophy 
— I was careful not to hurt his feelings. 

Cynthia. I'm glad of that ! 

(Ja\\t.e chuckles again.) 

Cynthia {shozus aiinoyance). You seem pleased 
that the rose-farm is discredited. 

Ja\vle {solemnly). My dear lady, if people will 
act in direct contravention of those great principles 
laid down in my philosophy, what can they expect 
but discomfiture and failure ? 

Worrell enters door at back with Figg's ajtd Jawle's 
hats and overcoats ; comes dowti and puts them on 
during following sce?ie. 

Cynthia. But what can be done with these poor 
girls ? 

Jawle {rises and majestically waddles towards hei'). 
Nothing can be done ! Charity is merely a form of 
refined selfishness. You see distress ; you are pained ; 
to relieve your pain you scatter benefits broadcast, 



ACT II THE CRUSADERS 67 

which corrupt both the giver and the receiver. {Looks 
roufid, fdgets.) This night air is noxious, and my 
vital processes are so slow ! {A little shiver; beckons 
Worrell.) 

(Worrell hats and coats Jawle.) 

FiGG {to Cynthia). You must let me bring my 
new poet to you. I call him my poet, because I dis- 
covered him. 

Cynthl\. Oh, did you ? 

FiGG. Yes ; quite by accident, in a little street off 
the Harrow Road. He's a superb genius ! His 
name's Radbone. 

Cynthia. Radbone ? 

FiGG. Yes; he's the sternest pessimist — sterner 
even than Jawle. Nobody has seized the inner 
core of the Harrow Road and Paddington like Rad- 
bone. 

Cynthia. Oh ! I don't know him. 

FiGG. No ; the herd — I do not use the word in 
an offensive sense — the herd do not know Radbone. 
But they shall. I am organising a Radbone Society. 
You'll expect us here to breakfast? 

(-£'::t:// Worrell, having finished with Jawle.) 

Cynthia. Oh, yes, yes ! 

Jawle. To breakfast ? 

Cynthia. Yes. 

Jawle (inysteriously, as if pondering) . Um — {a 
long grunt) . To breakfast ? 

Cynthia. You'll come, of course ! 



68 THE CRUSADERS act ii 

]a.wl'e {niysteriously). Possibly, possibly ! {Wad- 
dles off slowly right, jealously looking at Figg.) Rad- 
bone ! (FiGG^^<fj' after him.) 

Cynthia {following them 2ip). Surely he does not 
intend — 

FiGG {hurriedly') . I trust not ! I think not ! If I 
should observe anything, I'll let you know. Good 
night ! {Exit hurriedly after Jawle right.) 

Cynthia {watches them off). How could I have 
been so foolish as to ask them here ! 

Enter Worrell at back. Una appears at door. 

Worrell. Miss Dell ! 

Cynthia. I'll come ! {Seeing Una.) No ; I'll see 
Miss Dell here. 

(Una comes down stage.) 

Cynthlv {gives hand, which Una takes after a slight 
hesitation) . You received my letter, then ? 

Una. Yes. What do you want with me ? 

C\TSfTHiA. Where is Mr. Ingarfield? 

Una. His address is secret. 

Cynthia. From me? 

Una. From everybody, till he knows whether the 
Government will give him up. 

Cynthia. But I wish to help him. 

Una. Aren't you rather late ? 

Cynthia {turns away, ashamed). Late? 

Una. The moment he reached England he wrote 



ACT II THE CRUSADERS 69 

to you he was coming to you. He has called at your 
house in London each evening, and the only answer 
has been, " Mrs. Greenslade is away from home, but 
all letters will be forwarded." 

Cynthia {cotnes down a few steps, hangs her head, 
speaks in a low, ashamed voice) . What does he think 
of me? 

Una. He thinks you are a model of constancy and 
devotion. 

Cynthia {i^ery a7igrily, coining towards her) . Don't 
jeer at me ! 

Una. I'm not jeering ! You asked me what he 
thought of you. I've told you. 

Cynthia. He does not know — or suspect — 

Una. Suspect you ? He thinks you are away trav- 
elling — abroad, perhaps — and every time you are 
denied to him, he says, "How she will grieve when 
she knows ! " 

Cynthia. Poor fellow ! You have not told him — 

Una. Why should I tell him? He'll learn soon 
enough that — (Stops.) 

Cynthia. That what? 

Una. That fifteen months is long for a woman's 
devotion to last ! 

C\^THiA. Why do you taunt me? I'm doing all 
I can for his safety. Only to-night I have offered 
Lord Burnham everything — all the Greenslade be- 
quest — if the Government will not give him up. 

Una. What does Lord Burnham say ? 



70 THE CRUSADERS act ii 

Cynthia. He wishes to see Mr. Ingarfield at once. 
Here is a letter. {Producing lettei-.) Will you give 
it to Mr. Ingarfield ? 

U^i^ A {taking letter). Yes. 

Cyni'hia. To-night ? 

Una. Yes. 

Cynthia. He is in London? 

Una. No, not in London ; but I'll take it to him. 
Good night ! {Going up stage.) 

Cynthia. Good night ! {Suddenly.) Stay ! 

Una {cofuing down). What is it? 

Cynthia {pacing backwards and forivards, un- 
decided). No — I cannot — and yet he must know. 
Will you take a message to him from me ? 

Una {comes down to Cynthia) . Go on ! 

Cynthia {kindly). You are his friend, his sister. 
He told me so. 

Una {in the calmest, inost indifferent tone). Yes; 
he was my father's friend, and I saw a great deal of 
him some years ago ; and we love the same strange 
truths that nobody else believes in. 

Cynthla.. How is he? He's not ill? 

Una. No — not ill ; worn and exhausted after all 
he has gone through, but strong with hope and cour- 
age, and {very softly) love for you ! 

Cynthia {ci'ies out) . Oh, how will he bear to know 
that — that I have changed ! {Sits on seat ; buries 
her face in her hands.) 

Una {approaches her, puts the question very 



ACT II THE CRUSADERS 71 

quietly, but with intense interest). Changed? Have 
you changed so that you can never love him 
again ? 

Cynthia. I cannot help it ! I did love him truly 
and faithfully — at least, I thought I did; but month 
after month I've found myself caring less and less for 
him ! I would love him if could, but my heart will 
not be driven — tell him so. Oh, I've begun to write 
to him dozens of times, but I've been too cowardly ; 
and when I heard last week he had come back to 
England, I ran away because I was afraid to meet 
him and tell him my love was dead ! 

Una {^same outwardly calm, i?idifferent tone) . And 
you wish me to break the news to him ? 

Cynthia. I wish to save him pain. The blow will 
be kinder from a friend's hand than mine. 

Una. Very well ! I'm his friend. I'll send the 
dagger into his heart. 

Cynthia {rising angrily, crosses to centre). Don't 
speak to me like that ! Don't you see how wretched 
I am? Send him to me ! I'll wait here for him, and 
tell him the truth myself ! ( Walking angrily back- 
wards and forwards.) 

Una. No. You are right. It will be softer to 
come from me. 

Cynthia. You'll be very gentle with him? 

Una. Oh yes ; I'll kill him kindly. 

Cynthia. Why can't you spare me? You make 
me feel as if I were murdering him ! I would love 



72 THE CRUSADERS act ii 

him if I could. Tell him so, and tell him that all 
I have in the world is freely his. 

Una. All you have in the world is freely his. 

Cynthia. Except my heart. 

Una. Except your heart. 

Cynthia. Come to-morrow, and let me know how 
he bears it. 

Una. I will. Which is the nearest way to the 
station ? 

Cynthia. I'll send one of the servants. {Going 
towards cottage, centre.') 

Una. No. Nobody will harm me. The nearest 
way? 

Cynthia {pointing off left). That way takes you 
into the footpath. 

Una {going off down stage left, curtly) . Thank you. 
Good night ! 

Cynthia {comes dowti to her very tenderly and 
kindly). Oh, don't let him think me heartless and 
unkind — indeed I'm not — {Suddenly). Kiss me ! 

Una. Kiss you? Do you think I want to teach 
my lips the trick of breaking faith ? 

Cynthia {furious'). How dare you? how dare 
you? 

Una {laughs). Dare? I'm going to break his 
heart with your message. Dare ? {Laughs. Is goiftg.) 
(Cynthia, maddened, takes her by the shoul- 
der. Una turns, faces Cynthia.) 

Cynthia. You love him ! 



I 



ACT II THE CRUSADERS 73 

Una {close to Cynthia, looking straight at her). 
Yes, I love him ! {Exit down stage, left.) 

(Cynthia, maddened, walks up and down the 
stage, and then throws herself into a seat.) 
{The moon is rising.) 

Dick ente^'s behind her at the rose-arch ; comes up 
to her. 

Dick. Cynthia ! 

Cynthia. Leave me ! I hate you ! 

Dick {following her) . Hate me ? 

Cynthia {pacing backwards and forwards) . Yes ; 
you've made me break my word and despise myself. 

Dick. I'd break my word a thousand times for you. 

Cynthia {still pacing. Contemptuously). Would 
you? 

Dick. I'd sell myself body and soul for you ! 

Cynthia {contejnptuously'). Would you? 

Dick. Upon my honour I would ! 

Cynthia {stops. Same contemptuous tone). Would 
you sell your honour too ? 

Dick {comes down to her ; tries to put his arms 
round her) . Yes, my honour too ! 

Cynthia {contemptuous laugh ; gets away from him). 
Your honour ? Would you ? 

Dick {coming to her). Don't trifle with me any 
longer, Cynthia. See what a fool you make of me ! 
I don't care how long I dance after you — if you only 
love me at last. 



74 THE CRUSADERS act ii 

Cynthia. Then let it be at last ! I don't think 
I've yet sunk low enough. Good night! {^Getting 
away from him up stage.) 

Dick {goes 7'ound the other way and intercepts her. 
Passionately) . I can't say it ! If I leave you to-night, 
I shall only come back to-morrow loving you more 
madly than ever. I won't leave you till you say 
" Yes." (C'i'NTHiA is going into cottage. Dick in- 
tercepts her, and gets her a little way down 
the stage.) 
Cynthia, we were made for one another. 

Cynthla. Yes, I think we were. We're just on 
each other's level. 

Dick. What do you mean? 

Cynthla. I'm weak and vain and frivolous — I 
can't be faithful for five minutes. There's no truth 
in me. Do you love me ? 

Dick. Yes. 

Cynthia. I hate and despise myself, and I hate 
and despise you ! Do you love me ? 

Dick. Yes. 

Cynthla. I don't love you — I don't admire you 
— I don't respect you ! Do you love me? {Comes 
down stage.) 

Dick {coming to her). Yes, with all my heart. 

C\'NTHLA {7vith a lotid, contemptuous laugh). Oh, 
you were right ! We were made for one another. 
( Coming doiun in front.) 

Dick {folio iving her, clasping her). To-night? 



ACT 11 THE CRUSADERS 75 

Cynthia {looks at him suddenly) . Hush ! I heard 
something ! {Listens.) Yes, some one's coming. Go ! 
Dick. Not till you say '* Yes." 
Cynthia {listening) . There's some one coming ! 
Dick. Say ''Yes." {Whispers.) You may as well 
say it now ; you'll say it some time. Give me that 
rose. (Cynthia breaks away from Dick, looks at 
him desperately, then dashes the rose at 
his feet. ) 
Dick {picks it tip). At your window — soon? 
(Cynthia ivatches him off.) 

Philos enters at rose-arch, slowly, cautiously, looking 
7'ound. He is worn and rather aged since last act, 
with traces of hardship a7id suffering. Cynthia, 
looking off after Dick, tuiiis and sees Philos. She 
stands still. He watches her with intense devotion, 
coming towards her. She comes down in front of seat. 

Philos {coming towards her, titters a cry of satis- 
faction). Ah! my dearest! {Looks at her full of 
devotion ; ttimbles at her feet.) Oh ! how I have 
longed for this moment ! {Presses the folds of her 
dress to his lips.) {A long patise.) 

Cynthia. You've not met Una Dell? 

Philos. No. I've been watching for her to come 
back with your message. What does it matter? She 
could but have brought you to me — I have found the 
way to you alone. 

Cynthia {aside). He does not know. 



76 THE CRUSADERS act ii 

Philos. Oh, I'm starved and parched for lack of 
you ! I'm sick with hunger for the sight of you ! 
Speak to me, Cynthia ! speak to me ! 

Cynthia. What can I say? 

Philos {rises from ground). Tell me what I 
know, that you have counted the moments of my 
absence ; that every moment has been a year I Oh, 
I cannot say what I would ! I'm in a dream ! 
{Rising; she tiu-ns away front him.) Let me look at 
you ! It is you ! It is the one dear form that has 
been with me all the year through. You have never 
left me ! You made that place bright and sacred to 
me ! Oh, my heart has been breaking a hundred 
times, but you gave me courage, you gave me life — 
I shall never die while you love me ! 

{The gii'Is' voices singing the rose-song heard 
in the distance.) 

Cynthia {aside) . I cannot tell him. 

Philos. Ah ! Hark ! The rose-song ! All the 
old times come back ! It's the past year that's a 
dream. My fear, my sufferings, my despair, are all 
gone ! It's you, it's this moment, that are real ! You 
are with me, my bride ! Give me that kiss you 
promised me ! 

C^^NTHU {suddenly) . Hark ! I have visitors here ! 
You have taken me by surprise — don't think me cruel 
or unkind — I can't yet realise that you are here. I 
have begged Lord Burnham not to send you back to 
that dreadful country. 



ACT II THE CRUSADERS 77 

Philos. You have interceded for me? Don't 
fear ! They will not dare to touch me. The country 
is with me. 

Cynthia. Una Dell has a letter for you. You are 
to meet Lord Burnham here at eleven to-morrow 
morning. 

Philos. At eleven to-morrow ! 

Cynthia. Don't stay ! I want to think. You must 
give me time to think — I don't know what I'm saying 
— you mustn't stay now — good night ! {FoiuHng 
hifft off.) You'll do as I wish? 

Philos. Your least word is enough. Good night ! 
{Raises her hand to his lips.) To-morrow ! 

Cynthu. Yes, to-morrow. 

Philos (comes to her beseechingly) . It is a hundred 
years. 

C\^THiA {with a forced smile) . It will be soon 
enough ! {Aside, sadly, as he turns away.) It will 
be soon enough ! {Exit Philos left.) 

Cynthia {alone). What have I done? what have 
I done ? {Exit into cottage door at back.) 

{Rather long pause. Light seen in balcony 

windoiv right.) 
{ Clock in dista7ice strikes eleven. Pause.) 

Re-enter Philos doivn stage left; c?^eeps to seat, looking 
at balcony window. 

Philos {standing in front of seat). She is there ! 
{Looking up at balcony window.) Her room ! her 



78 THE CRUSADERS act ii 

light ! Oh, I cannot leave you ! And you were with 
me just now ! Here you stood and breathed this 
air ! Oh, if time would stand still, and make one 
moment of our meeting eternal ! To-morrow ! to- 
morrow ! 

Re-enter Dick froin archway ^ cautiously. 
(Philos crouches i?i arin of seat, watching.) 

Dick. All safe and quiet ! I've played a waiting 
game, and I've won. {Going up the steps.) I de- 
serve my luck ! 

Philos {watches) . That man ! 

Dick {taps at balcony) . Cynthia ! 

Philos (^^zV^). Cynthia! 

IdiCK {tapping louder) . Cynthia! Cynthia! 

Cynthia {opens the window a little). Leave me ! 
Go ! {Trying to shut the imndow.) 

Dick {trying to force his way in). But you prom- 
ised — 

Cynthia. Not now ! not now ! Do you hear ? 
Not now ! 

Dick. Why not ? 

Cynthia. Mr. Ingarfield has been here — 

Dick. Ingarfield! He's nothing to you — 

Cynthia. He loves me ! 

Dick. Poor fool ! 

Cynthia. Yes, poor fool ! I want to be alone, to 
think. Do you hear? Good night! Go! {Shuts 
window in his face.) 



\ 



ACT II THE CRUSADERS 79 

Y)\Q,Y^ {trying at window) . Cynthia! {Trying wiii- 
dow.) Fastened ! Cynthia ! 

Re-enter Palsam at archway. Goes to cottage door 
left, tmobserved. 

Dick {desperately^. Do you hear? Let me in! 
{Tapping, trying window ; Palsam and Philos watch- 
ing, unseen by each other.) You promised ! {Forces 
window open, and enters.) I will come in ! 
Philos. Oh ! 

Palsam {whispers). Who was it? Mrs. Blake ! 
Mrs. Blake ! {Taps door very gently^ 

(Philos rises, goes on balcony steps, with a 
gesture of despair turns away, cojnes down 
left.) 
(Palsam goes to door of Mrs. Campion- 
Blake's cottage, taps, sees Ingarfield 
coming from balcony.) 
Philos {looks up to balcony). Poor fool ! 

{Exit down stage left.) 
(Palsam cojnes down stage, looking after 
Ingarfield, and in a surprised tone ex- 
claims :) 

Palsam. Mr. Ingarfield ! 

{Exit after Ingarfield.) 
Dick {re-enters upon balcony). Damn that fellow 
Ingarfield ! 



8o THE CRUSADERS act ii 

(Cynthia appears at door of cottage at back, 
looks round cautiously to see that all is 
safe, then flies over to Mrs. Campion- 
Blake's door, batters at it with all her 
might for some seconds^ 
Cynthia {Jiysterically). Let me in ! let me in ! 
I'm frightened ! I — oh ! let me in ! Quick ! quick ! 
Ah ! ( The door opens ; Cynthia, fainting, hysteric, 
tumbles in ; the door closes.) 

Curtain. 

{One night passes between Acts II. a fid III.) 



ACT III 

Scene — Morning Room in the Rose Cottage. 
Enter Mrs. Campion-Blake froju door at back. 

Mrs. Cam. {speaking as she enters^ . Hush, sir ! 
hush! 

Palsam enters. 

You don't wish all the servants to hear, I suppose ? 

Palsam {stern, self-important, very business-like, 
goes to seat and sits down ; Mrs. Campion-Blake fol- 
lows him down) . Why not ? It's the truth ! 

Mrs. Cam. It's not the truth ! 

Palsam. Mr. Ingarfield did not deny it. Mrs. 
Greenslade does not deny it. 

Mrs. Cam. She's too indignant ! 

Palsam {shakes his head, smiles malignantly). I 
know the signs of guilt ! I've had too much ex- 
perience ! 

G 8i 



82 THE CRUSADERS act hi 

Dick enters. 

Dick. What's the matter? 

Palsam. Sir, a very terrible scandal has occurred, 
which I shall be compelled to make public. 

Dick. You don't say so ? 

Palsam. Yes. Last night, after endeavouring for 
nearly an hour to get at the truth from Miss Pattison 
about the rose-farmers, I was obliged to leave ; and 
happening to cross the lawn outside — 

Dick {rather ata7'med). You came by here? 

Palsam. I did. 

(Mrs. Campion- Blake is pacing backwards 
and forwards in a distressed 7vay.) 

Dick {half puzzled, half alarmed). What did you 
see? 

Palsam. Enough to convince me that the man 
who has placed himself at our head for the reforma- 
tion of London is a character of the worst possible 
type. 

Dick {astonished). My father? 

Palsam. No ; I do not accuse your father at pres- 
ent. I mean Mr. Ingarfield. 

Dic}ii {puzzled). Ingarfield! 

Palsam. A hypocrite and a scoundrel ! I saw him 
entering a window of this house last night at an hour 
when everybody ought to have been asleep. 

Dick. You surprise me ; but — {puzzled) . The 
rascal ! the villain ! 



ACT III THE CRUSADERS 83 

Palsam. I shall expose bim ! I shall expose the 
lady too ! 

Mrs. Cam. Indeed you shall not ! Mrs. Green- 
slade was not — 

Dick {at the mention of Mrs. Greenslade's name, 
quickly). Mrs. Greenslade's name must not be men- 
tioned in this affair. 

Palsai^i. Oh yes, it must ! 

Dick {standifig over Palsam, /;/ a low, firm tone). 
There will be a horse- whipping for the man who does 
mention it ! 

Palsam {in a quiet, determined voice). I shall not 
be deterred by a horse-whipping. I have set myself 
the inexpressibly painful task of rooting out vice from 
English life, and it's my duty to make an example of 
every one whom I detect. 

Dick {indignantly) . But good Heavens, sir ! {Seizes 
him.) You shall not leave this room till you have 
promised me — 

Mrs. Cam. {cof?iing betzuee?i them) . Hush ! Leave 
him alone ! Do you hear? {Separates them.) You 
won't stop his mouth that way. 

Palsam. No, nor any other way. Having warned 
Mrs. Greenslade, I now consider myself at liberty to 
make the matter public. Good morning ! 

Mrs. Cam. {stopping him). Listen, Mr. Palsam. 
If I could prove you are mistaken — 

Palsam. How? 

Mrs. Cam. Will you promise not to mention this 
for an hour? 



84 THE CRUSADERS act hi 

Palsam {takes out his watch). It is now half-past 
ten. I will not mention it till half-past eleven. 

Mrs. Cam. I'm sure, when I've made enquiries, I 
can bring you the clearest proof of that lady's inno- 
cence. 

Palsam {smiling) . Of course I should be only too 
pleased to find her innocent, if I could find one or 
more persons equally guilty. But I'm not at all hope- 
ful. I have now another painful duty to perform. 

Mrs. Cam. What's that? 

Palsam. To obtain the whole truth from Miss 
Pattison about the rose-farmers. {Authoritatively^ 
didactically.) Mind you, this all comes from not 
leaving matters in my hands. If I were allowed to 
do as I please, I could reform London in six months. 
{Fin?ily.) At half-past eleven ! {Exit.) 

(Dick and Mrs. Campion-Blake watch him 
off, then look at each other ^ 

Mrs. Cam. {atigrily) . You see what you've done ? 

Dick {pretending innocence). What I've done? 

Mrs. Cam. Don't pretend innocence ! Mrs. Green- 
slade has told me all ! 

Dick. But Palsam saw Ingarfield ! 

Mrs. Cam. Nonsense ! Palsam is short-sighted, 
and has somehow mistaken you for him. Oh, I knew 
there would be some scandal ! And — {Suddenly 
stops, cries out horror stricken^ 

Dick. What's the matter now? 

Mrs. Cam. The Duchess gives a garden party next 



ACT III THE CRUSADERS 85 

Friday, to meet the committee of the London Refor- 
mation League ? And everybody is to be there ! 
( Transfixed with horror.^ 

Dick {quiet/}^ . By Jove ! Everybody will be there ! 

Mrs. Cam. {enraged). Something must be done ! 
Do you hear? 

Dick. Well, I'll horsewhip Palsam ! It's my duty 
as a man of honour, and I'll do it ! 

Mrs. Cam. That's no use ! It would only spread 
the scandal far and wide. {Facing desperately.) 
Think ! think ! What can we do ? 

Dick. Why not tell the truth ? 

Mrs. Cam. The truth? That you were seen out- 
side her balcony last night ! 

Dick. No, not me ! Ingarfield ! 

Mrs. Cam. You or Ingarfield ! That doesn't mat- 
ter ! It's Mrs. Greenslade's reputation I must and 
will save at all costs. So far as Ingarfield is con- 
cerned, the story would do very well. {Suddenly.) 
It would rid us of him. Very well ; Mr. Palsam saw 
Mr. Ingarfield — but it was outside Mrs. Greenslade's 
balcony — how do you account for that ? 

Dick. I can't. It looks suspicious ! 

Mrs. Cam. {enraged). Suspicious ! Will you once 
for all realise the fearful mess we're in? Won't you 
do something to repair the mischief you've caused? 

Dick. That I've caused ! Let me tell you, Mrs. 
Blake, I've been used very badly in this matter. If 
Mrs. Greenslade had placed her reputation in my 



86 THE CRUSADERS act hi 

keeping, everything would have been right. Still, I'll 
do all I can ; and if you'll say what story you're going 
to tell, I'll stick to it. Only let's be careful about 
details. 

Mrs. Cam. But what story can we tell ? 

Dick. Well, I'm not a good hand at inventing ; but 
you may rely on me for any amount of backing up. 

Mrs. Cam. How can we clear Mrs. Greenslade ? 

Dick. But she's really innocent ! 

Mrs. Cam. I know. 

Dick. Why not prove it ? 

Mrs. Cam. How can I ? Palsam will say one thing, 
I shall say another, and between us Mrs. Greenslade's 
reputation will be torn to rags. Oh ! why don't you 
suggest something? Think! think! think! 

Enter Victorine. 

Victorine. Pardon, madame ! Madame will know 
if Mr. Palsam is still here ? 

Mrs. Cam. No, he has gone ; but he will come 
back at half-past eleven. How is Mrs. Greenslade, 
Victorine ? 

Victorine. Madame is not well. She has had 
some frightens — bad messages. I do not like that 
Mr. Palsam. Every time he sees me he make his 
eyes stop still at me — he not say nothing, but he think 
much — he think, " Oh, you are a wicked French 
devil ! " {Pause.) 



ACT III THE CRUSADERS 87 

Mrs. Cam. {looks at Victorine. Suddenly her face 
brightens and shows she sees a way out of her difficulty. 
She goes very siveetly to Victorine, and says in a quiet, 
persuasive tone) . Victorine, I want to speak to you 
for a few minutes quite alone. 

Victorine. Certainly, madame. 

Mrs. Cam. {same gentle, sweet, persuasive 7?ianner). 
Now keep somewhere close here, and I'll come to 
you directly. 

Vici^ORiNE. Yes, madame. 

{Exit. Leaves door open.) 

Mrs. Cam. {to Dick). You stay somewhere about 
the lawn. Be ready to come in and confirm my story, 
if necessary. 

Dick. Hadn't we better arrange the details ? 

Mrs. Cam. {looks off at open door). Here's Mrs. 
Greenslade ! Leave all to me ! 

{Exit Dick.) 

Cynthia ente7's. 

Cynthia. Has Mr. Palsam gone ? 

Mrs. Cam. Yes ; but he's coming back. He's 
determined to expose you. 

Cynthia. What can I do? 

Mrs. Cam. Will you trust everything to me ; I 
believe I can save you. 

Cynthia. Am I worth saving ? 

Mrs. Cam. Do you realise the awful position 
you're in? 



88 THE CRUSADERS act hi 

Cynthia. Yes. Mr. Palsam means to spread a 
horrible tale about me. Of course, I don't wish to 
be spattered with mud. I don't want people to think 
badly of me, and yet if they knew the exact truth — 

Mrs. Cam. There's no such thing as the exact 
truth. What we've got to do is to stop that man's 
tongue. I think you ought to be very grateful to me, 
when I'm ready to go anywhere, do anything, say 
anything, and all for your sake. 

Cynthia. Oh, don't think me ungrateful ! Only 
since last night I've felt myself such a hypocrite ! 

Mrs. Cam. Hypocrite? 

Cynthia. Yes ; and I hate hypocrites ! 

Mrs. Cam. So do I. No one hates hypocrisy 
more than I do. But how are you a hypocrite? 

Cynthia. I keep on saying one thing and prac- 
tising another. 

Mrs. Cam. That isn't hypocrisy. Everybody does 
that. Hypocrisy is when you know you're thoroughly 
bad at heart, and cloak it over by pretending to be 
very religious — like Chadband or Stiggins. There's 
really very little hypocrisy in England to-day, except 
in the small dissenting sects. But come ! we've only 
half an hour. Will you leave everything to me ? 

Cynthia. Shall you have to say anything that's 
not the truth? 

Mrs. Cam. I shall only deviate very slightly. And 
surely, to save such a reputation as yours, it's worth 
sacrificing something ! 



ACT III THE CRUSADERS 89 

Cynthia. Then the better the reputation, the more 
falsehoods it's worth while to tell to save it? 

Mrs. Cam. Really, Cynthia, you are the most ex- 
asperating woman — when I'm doing all I can ! 

Cynthia {running to her quickly^. No, no! I 
don't mean to be unkind. {Kisses her.) There ! 
I'll leave it all in your hands. 

Mrs. Cam. Very well ! I may have to spend a 
few hundreds — 

Cynthia. Whatever is necessary. 

Mrs. Cam. Now go and lie down, and have a 
headache all day; and be very indignant at Mr. 
Palsam's accusation. 

Cynthia. Oh, that's my part, is it? What a farce 
it is ! 

Mrs. Cam. What's a farce ? 

Cynthia. Life ! 

Mrs. Cam. A farce? 

Cynthia. Yes ; just to keep the husk of reputa- 
tion, and know there's no grain there ! And that 
man Ingarfield last night was not afraid of prison, or 
hunger, or death ! And I'm afraid of the truth ! 
I'm afraid of what people will say of me ! Oh, I 
am small ! I am contemptible ! 

Mrs. Cam. {goes to her) . Cynthia ! 

Cynthia. Very well ! Do as you please ! I'll say 
nothing ! {Exit.) 

Mrs. Cam. Was there ever such an unselfish, de- 
voted friend as I am? {Exit.) 



90 THE CRUSADERS act hi 

Dick and Lord Burnham enter at windoiv left. 

Lord Burnham. You here ! You've not kept 
your promise ! 

Dick. Well, the fact is, there's some scandal 
here — 

Lord Burnham {quickly). Scandal! Not about 
you? 

Dick. Oh, no ! It's about this fellow Ingarfield. 
I don't quite know the details ; but there's going to be 
a devil of a row ! 

Lord Burnham. Is there? He was to meet me 
here at eleven. {Sits, takes out his watch.) The 
papers this morning are full of these confounded mass 
meetings ! 

Dick. What's the latest about Costa Rica? 

Lord Burnha:\i. We shall have to pay for the 
revolution. We're in to the tune of four millions ; 
only as it was all part of this confounded London 
Reformation scheme of Ingarfield's, it's only fair that 
Greenslade's million and a half should go towards it. 
- Dick. And the other two millions and a half? 

Lord Burnham {pulling a long face). Twopence 
on the income tax. 

Dick. And the " ne'er-do-wells " ? 

Lord Burnham. Bring them back to London. 

Dick. And the Government? 

Lord Burnham. Out we go ! The ungrateful 
rascals ! Take them threepence off the income tax. 



ACT III THE CRUSADERS 91 

they don't say "Thank you." Put a penny on, and 
they kick you out. 

Mrs. Campion-Blake enters right, evidently in very 
good spirits. 

Mrs. Cam. Ah ! Good morning, Lord Burnham ! 
{^Shaking hatids.) Who would have supposed this 
about Mr. Ingarfield ? (Dick listens carefully.) 

Lord Burnham. What? 

Mrs. Cam. It seems he's quite a Lothario, a Don 
Juan ! 

Lord Burnham. Nonsense ! 

Mrs. Cam. Fact ! And who do you think is one 
of his latest victims ? {Looks round at Dick ; ex- 
changes a glance of intelligence.) Mrs. Greenslade's 
French maid, Victorine ! 

Lord Burnham {very much astonished). You don't 
say so ? 

Mrs. Cam. Yes ; the girl doesn't deny it ; in fact, 
she's just made a full confession to me. 

(Lord Burnham looks fro7n one to the other 
incredulously^ 

Dick. Oh, there's no doubt about it — unfor- 
tunately ! 

Lord Burnham. But we're all on his committee 
for reforming London — and I'm the President! 
{Begins to laugh, sees the joke of it more and more, 
looks frojn one to the other. ) 



92 THE CRUSADERS act hi 

Mrs. Cam. It's no laughing matter, Lord Burn- 
ham ! Unfortunately, Mr. Palsam has discovered 
everything. 

Lord Burnham. Palsam has discovered — {Roars 
with laughter?) Palsam has discovered — {Another 
7'oar.) By Jove ! there will be a devil of a row ! 

Dick {venturing, looking to Mrs. Campion-Blake 
for approval as he goes along). Yes. Palsam hap- 
pened to be passing outside at the very moment, and 
saw Romeo Ingarfield scaling JuHet Victorine's balcony. 

Lord Burnham {exploding with laughter'). Romeo 
Ingarfield — Juliet Victorine — {Another roar of laugh- 
ter ; recovers himself, pulls himself together very sol- 
emnly, then moralises in a severe vein.) Now, all this 
arises from the folly and nonsense of trying to reform 
London. 

Dick {cordially) . That's just what I said all along. 
London don't want any reforming. {Suddenly starts 
up, ve7j excited, very elated; rises, and comes to Lord 
Burnham.) By Jove ! 

Lord Burnham. What is it ? 

Dick. The indignation meetings against the Gov- 
ernment ! Ingarfield's political friends ! They'll cut 
him dead ! It doesn't matter how many revolutions 
he causes, they'll stick to him like leeches ; but they'll 
drop him like a hot potato if he's been within fifty 
miles of a French maid ! 

Lord Burnham. To be sure ! Very lucky for us ! 
Well, there's some good, after all, in Balsam's system of 



THE CRUSADERS 



93 



suspecting everybody, for he's discovered a thorough- 
going hypocrite at last ! Bravo, Palsam ! 

{Exit at window.) 

FiGG efiters breathlessly at back. 

FiGG. Mrs. Blake, has Jawle been in to break- 
fast? 

Mrs. Cam. No ; why ? 

FiGG. Then the great deed is done ! Jawle has 
set the seal on his philosophy in the large pond at the 
end of the grounds ! 

Dick. He can't have been such a fool ! 

FiGG. Fool ! It was the only solution of the life- 
problem that continually pressed upon him. 

Mrs. Cam. Do you really mean that he has drowned 
himself? 

FiGG {coming funereally down). I have traced his 
footsteps to the pond. The extraordinary size and 
shape of his boots render their indentations in the 
mud quite unmistakable. If we could fathom the 
depths under the trees, I have no doubt we should 
there discover what, only a few hours ago, was Jawle ! 
{Sits sad and dejected on sofa, looks unutterably 
sad.) 

Mrs. Cam. {going to Figg very angrily'). If any- 
thing has really happened, you are quite as guilty as 
he is ! 

Figg. There is no question of guilt ! Jawle's great 
tragic contempt of human hfe must not be confounded 



94 THE CRUSADERS act hi 

with a paltry, every-day, newspaper suicide. ( With a 
smile of benevolejit pity.) 

(Mrs. Campion- Blake makes a movement. 
FiGG site/ices her with a gestuf-e.) 
FiGG. Jawle has quitted this despicable sphere in 
a manner worthy of himself. There is a natural fitness 
about it ! A kind of a — celebration. 

Mrs. Cam. {pacing up and down). Nonsense ! 
nonsense ! There's no natural fitness in celebrating 
your coroner's inquest in a friend's house, where you 
are only on the merest visiting terms. 

FiGG. Pardon me — you quite mistake the situa- 
tion ! (Mrs. Campion- Blake inakes an angry^ iju- 
patient gesture, goes and throws herself in 
a chair, sits there showing signs of im- 
patience at Figg's harangue.) 
FiGG {rising). Our feelings of personal sorrow must 
be stifled in the contemplation of a great national 
event. In fact, I shall insist on making it a great 
national event. I shall myself pronounce the funeral 
oration. The ordinary method of interment would be 
distasteful to Jawle. 

Jawle enters at window. Waddles down to sofa 
behind Figg. 

I shall cremate him ! ( Catches sight of Jawle. His 
features drop their expression of smug, complacent, 

affected solemnity, and he endeavours to express sur- 
prised pleasure, but can hardly conceal his disap- 



ACT III THE CRUSADERS 95 

pointment. Stands nonplussed for some moments , then 
ejaculates a feeble ^^Oh /" Pauses, stares at Jawle in 
a sickly, embarrassed way.) I was really afraid that 
you had decided — to — a — a — a — 

]a\\le (majestically). No ; not at present ! {Goes 
to arm-chair and sits.) 

FiGG. I'm so glad — so very glad ! 

Jawle. No. I happened to fall in with that hitherto 
terribly misguided young man, Mr. Ingarfield — 

Mrs. Cam. Mr. Ingarfield ! 

Jawle. Yes ; to my surprise, he has embraced 
my doctrine of the absolute folly and depravity of the 
human herd. And my satisfaction in securing such a 
disciple has induced me to postpone my intention of 
drawing the curtain over this scene of misery and 
littleness. (Places his hands on his stomach, and goes 
into a profound reve?ie.) 

Mrs. Cam. (coming to Figg). Mr. Figg, Mrs. Green- 
slade is so dreadfully ill this morning, will you kindly 
excuse her entertaining you any longer? Under the 
circumstances, you won't mind — (Shaking hands with 
Figg.) 

Figg. Not at all ! So sorry she is ill ! We'll renew 
our visit on the first occasion. 

Mrs. Cam. Delighted — so sweet of you to come 
back — but you'll please get Mr. Jawle to set the seal 
on his philosophy in somebody else's pond, not in 
ours. ( Very winni7igly.) So pleased to have seen 
you — so very pleased! (Shaking haiids.) Good- 
bye! (Goes to ^^SY^LE.) Good-bye, Mr. Jawle 1 



96 THE CRUSADERS act hi 

(Javvle is compleiely absorbed ; takes no 

notice, his large, blank face blandly gazing 

into nothingness. Suddenly he gives vent 

to his peculiar melancholy chuckle^ 

Mrs. Cam. {in a louder tone). Good-bye ! {Goes 

and rings bell.) Good-bye ! good-bye ! 

(Jawle takes no notice. Figg looks at Jawle 
with great admiration.) 
Figg {admiringly, pointing to Jawle). That curious 
habit of burying himself. {To Dick.) 

Dick. Make haste and cremate him ! That'll cure 
him ! 

Mrs. Cam. {having rung bell, returns to Jawle, stands 

over him ; veiy e?nphatically). Good-bye, Mr. Jawle ! 

Jawle {comes to himself with an effort, looks round, 

rouses hifuself rises, places his fat paw in Mrs. 

Campion- Blake's hand). Ah ! {Stands absorbed.) 

Worrell enters at door at back. 

Mrs. Cam. I trust there is no immediate danger 
of — of — your — 

Jawle. No ; {rises) I shall school myself to endure 
the vast spectacle of human imbecihty, selfishness, and 
emptiness for some short time longer. The word 
" emptiness " reminds me I have had no breakfast. 

Mrs. Cam. {takes his hand, and gradually gets him 
up stage. To ^VoRRELL). Some breakfast for Mr. 
Figg and Mr. Jawle. {Getting Jawle and Figg up 
towai'ds the door.) 



ACT III THE CRUSADERS 97 

Jawle {turning 7'onnd plaintively). That cold veal 
pie I had for breakfast yesterday morning was singu- 
larly ill adapted to one whose digestive and other 
vital processes are as slow as mine. 

Mrs. Ca:m. {getting Jawle a?id Figg a little neai-e)- 
door). Some fish, Worrell ! 

Jawle {meditatively^ . Yes ; and would you think 
me rude if I suggested a little of that really excellent 
Chambertin? I have noticed it disposes me to form 
a slightly more favourable estimate of mundane con- 
ditions. 

Mrs. CA^L {getting them a little nearer door) . Some 
of the best Burgundy, Worrell ! 

(Worrell stands at back, waiting for Jawle, 
holdifig the door open.) 

Jawle {placing his fat hand in Mrs. Campion- 
Blake's). Pray, thank Mrs. Greenslade for her kind 
hospitaHty. I trust I have amply repaid it by show- 
ing her the pernicious folly of her scheme for reform- 
ing London, and I — ( Goes into a profound reverie. 
Mrs. Campion- Blake looks despairingly at Figg, 7110- 
tio7is him to take Jawle off.) 

Figg {prompting Jawle). Breakfast ! 

Jawle {rousing himself). Ah ! {Smiles seraphi- 
cally. Goes off at back, uttering his peculiar melan- 
choly chuckle. Figg follows him. Mrs. Campion- 
Blake gives a sigh of relief) 

Dick. Your version seems to be getting on splen- 
didly. Can't you let me have a few more details? 

H 



98 THE CRUSADERS act hi 

Mrs. Cam. Victorine has consented to get us out 
of our difficulty. 

Dick. And Ingarfield? 

Mrs. Cam. Ingarfield must help us too ! He surely 
can't refuse to join us in clearing Mrs. Greenslade's 
reputation ! 

Enter Worrell at back announcing. 
Worrell. Mr. Ingarfield ! 

Enter Philos at back, worn, calm, pale, broken, con- 
temptuous. Indifferent. 

{Exit Worrell at back) . 

Mrs. Cam. {hurriedly to Philos). One moment, 
Mr. Ingarfield ! {D?'aws him down stage.) You were 
here last night ; you have compromised a lady — Mr. 
Palsam is determined to ruin her reputation. Vic- 
torine has promised to take the whole matter upon 
herself. To save that lady, will you aid in this de- 
ception ? 

Philos {looks at her; turns and looks at Dick, who 
turns round. A pause). Yes ! 

Mrs. Cam. {shows satisfaction^) . You'll say nothing 
till I've cleared Mrs. Greenslade? 

Philos. Nothing ! {Exit Mrs. Campion-Blake.) 

Enter Lord Burnham. Comes down. 

Philos. You sent for me. I'm here. What do 
you want? 



ACT III THE CRUSADERS 99 

Lord Burnham. I wish to tell you that we have 
arranged with the Costa Rica Government to com- 
pound their claims, and they agree to release you 
from the consequences of your folly. 

Philos. My folly ! Their oppression drove the 
men mad ! Go on ! 

Lord Burnham. That arrangement was concluded 
by cable last night, I am sorry to say. 

Philos {indiffej-ejifiy) . Sorry ! 

Lord Burnham. If this scandal about you had 
leaked out first, we could have snapped our fingers at 
your political friends, and sent you back to Costa 
Rica to stand your trial. 

Philos. Send me back. ( Calmly.) I did not 
escape for my own sake, but only that the truth might 
be known, and the innocent saved from suffering with 
the guilty. Send me back ! Anything further ? 

Lord Burnham. You agree to place yourself en- 
tirely in our hands ? 

Philos (Jndiffejrtitly) . In yours — or anybody's. 

Lord Burnham. I have now to get Mrs. Green- 
slade's consent. And I trust this will be a lesson to 
you not to meddle again with the working arrange- 
ments of this very excellent planet. 

Philos {looks at him steadily, pauses ; then in the 
same calm, indifferent tone). No ; as the devil seems 
to manage it very well, I'll leave it in his hands for the 
future. 

(Lord Burnham shrugs his shoulders, and exit.) 



lOO THE CRUSADERS 



Palsam enters at window. 



Palsam. Mr. Ingarfield, I have prepared a written 
statement of last night's unfortunate affair. 

Philos {calm, conversational to7ie). Are there 
plenty of lies in it ? 

Palsam. Lies ? 

Philos. When one lives in a world of lies, lies are 
the only truth ; and the man who tells the truth is 
simply a fish who has been fool enough to jump out 
of water. {Goes tip back, stands with back to audi- 
ence during the following scene. ^ 

Mrs. Ca^ipion- Blake re-ejiters with a 7'ather laro^e 



envelope. 



(Palsam comes dowti stage.) 

Mrs. Cam. {going towards Palsam cordially) . Ah ! 
I told you I should be able to get at the truth ! 

Palsam {suspiciously). The truth? 

Mrs. Cam. Read that ! ( Gives him the envelope, 
watches him closely) . 

Palsam {pulling out paper fro7n envelope) . I warn 
you I am not to be imposed upon by any trumped-up 
tale ! {Looks suspiciously at her, then at Dick, theji 
at Ingarfield. Opens the paper with apparent sus- 
picion, begins to read it very carefully and suspiciously. 
Suddenly di'ops his suspicious manner.) Ah ! I read 
that French maid's character the moment I set eyes 
on her ! 



ACT III THE CRUSADERS loi 

Mrs. Cam. {sympathi singly s/g/is) . Ah ! I'm afraid 
you were right ! 

Palsam. Yes ; I have quite a remarkable gift of 
judging people's character. Of all the thousands of 
people whom I've suspected, I've never found myself 
at fault ! There's always been something in it ! 

Mrs. Cam. (s/g/is). Ah! {Sympathisingly.) I 
shouldn't wonder ! 

Palsam {having considered letter) . I should like to 
put a few plain questions to this young person. 

Mrs. Cam. {quickty). She is perfectly ready to sign 
that confession in your presence ; but she refuses to 
be questioned further. 

Palsam. Ah I They can none of them bear to be 
cross-questioned. {Returns to letter carefully.') 

Mrs. Ca:\l {watching him closely'). Of course you 
will apologise to the lady whom you have wronged 
with your unjust suspicions? 

Palsam {cordially'). Oh, yes; I'll apologise most 
heartily ! I must say it gives me unspeakable pleasure 
to find that we may ascribe the whole of this painful 
affair to the low standard of morality prevailing among 
the French. What is to become of this young person ? 

Mrs. Ca^l She leaves for France to-night. 

Palsam. Wouldn't it be advisable to keep her here, 
and thoroughly reform her first, and then send her 
back to reclaim her countrymen? What a glorious 
thing it would be if we could be the instruments of 
reformins: the French nation ! We must think that 



I02 THE CRUSADERS act hi 

over ! {Turns half round to Ingarfield.) Mr. In- 
garfield, what have you to say to this confession? 

Philos {back to audience; does not turn round). 
Nothing ! 

Palsam. Of course, you will have no further asso- 
ciation with us ? 

Philos {sajue attitude). God forbid ! 

Palsam. This young person will sign this in my 
presence. 

Mrs. Cam; {rising, going towards door). Yes — 
this way. {Opens door. Aside.) It's wonderful how 
little I've had to deviate from the truth ! {Exit.) 

Palsam. I'm so glad that we can still pride our- 
selves upon preserving our superior tone of national 
morality ! {Exit.) 

Dick {to Philos) . My friend, you take the advice of 
a man of the world : Don't you try any more of this 
mending and tinkering society. You see where it 
lands you ! It's no good trying to live up to it — you 
can't — and then you only find out what a fool you've 
been to pretend to be better and wiser than other 
people. (Philos looks straight at him.) Now, you 
take a leaf out of my book. I enjoy life ! I take the 
world as I find it, and a damned good sort of a world 
it is ! And if it's good enough for me, why isn't it 
good enough for you, eh? 

Philos. A hen-roost is good enough for fleas, and 
a dead dog for blow-flies ; but this world is not good 
enough for me, because it holds men like you ! 



ACT III THE CRUSADERS 103 

Dick. What the devil do you mean ? 

Philos incomes quickly down from wmdow and sta7ids 
face to face with Dick). I've saved her — my char- 
acter's gone ! I'm the laughing-stock of the country 
— that's nothing ! Now about the future ! 

Dick. Future? Whose future? 

Philos. Her future; and incomes close to hint), 
damn you, your future, if it has to do with hers ! 

Dick (^pauses, looks at Philos, speaks in a calm 
voice). What do you know? 

Philos. I saw you enter her window last night ! 

Dick. You saw me ! 

Philos. And heard you and her speak of a poor 
fool who loved her ! Well, you see what this poor 
fool is ready to do for her ! 

Dick. Yes. 

Philos. Now — either you love her or you do not. 
Her reputation is safe. If you don't love her well 
enough to brave all fortunes with her, so that she may 
be secure whatever happens, take your oath to leave 
her this hour, and never see her again — and if you 
break that oath, by God ! I'll kill you ! If you do 
love her, and she loves you, do for her a hundredth 
part of what I'd do, make your love your religion, put 
all these Hes behind your back, own her openly before 
all the world, and let them rave their tongues out ! 
You've dared to do wrong ; dare not to lie about it ! 
Which is it to be ? 

Dick {after a long pause, very calmly, in ordinary 



I04 THE CRUSADERS act hi 

tone). Mr. Ingarfield, perhaps you won't believe me. 
Frankly, I should tell you this if it were not true ; so 
take your choice : Mrs. Greenslade is innocent. 

Philos. Innocent ? 

Dick. She saw you, spoke to you last night ! That 
saved her ! Do you believe me? 

Philos {looks at him very searchingly for a few 
seconds). Yes. {Turns very imperatively.) Then 
you'll leave her? 

Dick. Yes ; this morning. And you'll allow me 
to put Mr. Palsam right about — 

Philos. It's too late for that. He believes this 
tale ; if you change it, you'll rouse his suspicions, and 
perhaps she will be sacrificed. 

Dick. But your character ? 

Philos. My life is ended. I care no more for life 
or reputation than if I were dead. 

Dick. But it's monstrous — as a man of honour, I 
really cannot — 

Philos {interrupting him on the word honour) . As 
a man of honour — let me be ! 

{Dick goes to table at back, gets his hat, comes 
down, and is about to speak to Philos, but 
is ovei'come ; ivalks to window.) 

Dick {ashamed). I've behaved like a blackguard ! 

{Exit.) 

Philos {seated on sofa alone). All's over ! What 
am I waiting for? Still hungering for her footfall or 
her least whisper ! 



ACT III THE CRUSADERS 105 

Elite)- AWiRRELL at back, showing in Una, who brings 
a spray of blighted roses, and walks down stage to 
Philos. 

Worrell. Mrs. Greenslade is engaged, but I'll tell 
her you're here. {Exit at back) 

Una {seeing Philos; looking at liim). You know ! 
She has told you ! Ah ! I knew I should find you 
here ! 

Philos. I'm waiting to see Lord Burnham — That's 
a lie ! I'm waiting because I can't drag myself away 
from her. 

Una {coining to him) . Where have }'ou been through 
the night? 

Philos. I don't know — anywhere ! Oh, Una ! 
{Looking tip to her for sympathy) 

Una {softly). What is it? (Philos bursts into 
tears.) What is it? Tell me ! Come, tell me all ! 

Philos {between his sobs) . This thing — this dream 

— this sweetness — this woman that I loved — oh, 
but I love her still ! — she's the spring of every pulse 
of me that beats — she plays with my heart as the 
moon plays with the tides, and rolls me round the 
earth at her will — oh, I loved her! I loved her! 
And I love her still ! I'm hers ! I'm hers ! No ! 
no ! I will not be such a slave ! I will forget her 

— I'll — I'll — {Buries his face in his hands, sob- 
bing) 

Una {standing over him, stretching out her arms 



io6 THE CRUSADERS act hi 

towards him, aside) . Won't my love do for you ! 
( Conquers herself ; speaks to him again, like a mother 
to a child.) There ! there ! Cry away ! Shall I cry 
with you? Listen ! I've been longing for the moon 
for years, and breaking my heart because I can't get 
it ; and the moon takes no notice of me ! Do you 
hear? Am I not a baby, to long for the moon? 
There ! there ! there ! Cry, child, cry, and ease your 
heart ! 

Philos {partially i-ecovering, looking at her through 
his tears). Oh, I'm weak, I'm cowardly ! 

Una. Ah, but you'll be strong by and bye ! You'll 
be master of yourself as you have never been before, 
and you'll set your face like flint to your work ! And 
then you won't mind losing your parsley garland ! 

Philos. My parsley garland ! 

Una. Yes ; we're all of us racing for parsley gar- 
lands on this silly earth. What does it matter whether 
we win or lose ? It's only a few parsley leaves. The 
prize is nothing ! The race is all ! Ah ! {Laughing 
at him.) You're better ! A heartache isn't much 
more than a toothache, is it? Will you come and 
race for another parsley garland? Will you make 
London fit to live in? {Showing him the roses.) 
Look! 

Philos. Blighted ! 

Una. Yes ; the head gardener says it's no use 
trying to grow roses here. The London smoke kills 
them. 



ACT III THE CRUSADERS 



107 



Philos. That's what I've been trying to do. I've 
been trying to grow roses in the London smoke. 

(Una goes up stage.) 

Lord Burnham enters. 

Lord Burnham (coming towards sofa) . Mr. Ingar- 
field, Mrs. Greenslade consents that the Greenslade 
bequest be appUed to the claims of the Costa Rica 
Government. 

Philos. Very well. 

Lord Burnham. So the net result of our reform- 
ing London is a revolution in South America, and 
twopence on the income tax. 

Enter Mrs. Campion- Blake and Palsam. 

Mrs. Cam. Now you're quite satisfied? 
Palsam {amiably). Oh, quite ! Send for Mrs. 
Greenslade, and let me make an ample apology ! 

Worrell enters at back with large parcel. 

Worrell (coifiing down to Mrs. Campion-Blake 
with the parcel) . A parcel for you, madam, by spe- 
cial messenger. 

Mrs. Cam. The new programme ! Let the mes- 
senger wait. (Opening parcel.) And tell Mrs. Green- 
slade that Mr. Palsam wishes to see her here. 

(Exit Worrell.) 

Mrs. Cam. (opens the parcel, and brings out the 



io8 THE CRUSADERS act in 

new programme, a gorgeous blue satin affair, ivith gold 
letters. Displaying it) . Isn't it perfectly exquisite ? 

Lord Burnham. Very pretty pattern ! 

Una. What's it for? 

Mrs. Cam. It's the new programme for reforming 
London. 

Una. Oh, I see ; you're going to cover London 
with bkie satin, so that Londoners may get an idea of 
what the sky is hke ! {Exit at wifidow.) 

Cynthia enters very slowly. 

(Philos turtis round ; their eyes meet ; she 
shows g7'eat shatne ; her eyes drop.) 
Cynthia. You asked to see me, Mr. Palsam. 
Palsam. I'm very proud to acknowledge that I 
was entirely mistaken. I have discovered the real 
offender. Mr. Ingarfield (Dick enters at window), 
you will acknowledge your hypocrisy in the fullest 
terms ? 

Cynthia. What ! {Looks enquiringly at Mrs. Cam- 
pion-Blake.) (Philos looks at Dick.) 

Palsam. I shall exact from you, sir, a pubHc con- 
fession in the same terms as this. {Showing letter.) 

Cynthia. Confession ? Give that to me ! {Looks 
at Mrs. Campion-Blake enquiringly. To Mrs. Blake.) 
What have you done? 

(Philos and Dick look at each other. Cyn- 
thia i-eads the letter, shows great indigna- 
tion^ 



ACT III THE CRUSADERS 



109 



Mrs. Ca!\i. My dear — of course — you had no 
idea — it's surprised you ! 

Cynthia {having 7'ead letter with the deepest shame 
and indignation). Oh ! {Tears it up in great 
anger ^ 

Mrs. Cam. Take care ! What are you doing? 
You've ruined yourself ! 

Cynthia. No; I think I've saved myself! 

Palsam. Why did you tear that confession? 

Cynthia. Because it's false ! 

Palsam. False ! Then what am I to believe ? 

Cynthia. Believe what you please ! 

Palsam. If I thought you were guilty — 

Cynthia. If you thought I were guilty, you would 
blacken me ! Spy ! spy ! spy ! Blacken me, then ! 
Lord Burnham, I am innocent ! Defend me against 
this man ! {Looks up, 7?ieets Philos's eyes, covers her 
face with her hands, bows her head, utters a cry of the 
greatest shame, rushes off in an agony of shame.) 

{Pause. Philos goes to door after her; 
stands there watching.) 

Lord Burnham. You hear, sir ! You're evidently 
mistaken ; and if this tale is made pubhc, all that is 
certain to be proved is that you have tried to ruin a 
lady's reputation. You'll gain nothing by making a 
scandal. You'll be best to hold your tongue. 

Palsam {after a pause). I'll keep silence on one 
condition. 

Lord Burnham. Well? 



no THE CRUSADERS act hi 

Palsam. My lord, you are addicted to horse-racing. 
I'll never mention this painful affair if you'll promise 
to sell your horses, and promise never — 

Lord Burnham {with a co7itemptiwus laugh, turns 
away). No ; I'm damned if I do ! 

Palsam. Then I'm very sorry I shall be compelled 
to make it public. 

Dick. Make what public? 

Palsam. What I saw last night. 

Dick. What did you see ? 

Palsam. I saw Mr. Ingarfield at that balcony. 

Dick {aside to Philos). Why don't you speak? 

Philos {looks at Dick and Palsam). I've nothing 
to say. {Goes to back.) 

Dick. It's false ! Mr. Palsam, you saw me ! 

Palsam. You ? 

Lord Burnham. Dick ! 

Dick. My honour, sir, Mrs. Greenslade is innocent 

— save her, sir ! ( Very appealingly to Lord Burnham.) 

{Pause. Lord Burnham, perplexed, walks 

up toivards Mrs. Campion-Blake, who has 

been listeniftg to foregoing scene.) 

Mrs. Cam. {to hifn). She'd much better have kept 
to the truth as I had arranged it ! 

Lord Burnham {to Palsam). You'll hold your 
tongue if I sell my stud and give up racing? 

Palsam. Yes. 

Lord Burnham. Very well; I'll do it! {Coming 
a step or two towards Dick. Dick takes Lord Burn- 



ACT III THE CRUSADERS iii 

ham's hand, wrings it heartily, exchanges a look with 
Philos, and goes off at windoiv.) And if I ever hear 
one word against this lady — 

Palsam. Oh, you won't ! I've given you my word, 
and I ahvays speak the truth. 

Lord Burnham. And let me tell you, sir, you've 
acted the part of a busy-body, mischief-maker, and 
scandal-monger, and the sooner you leave this house 
the better. {Drives the words home into Palsam, and 
then goes calmly and sits on sofa.) 

{Pause. Palsaai stands imperturbable in the 
middle of the stage.) 
Palsam. My lord, there's one thing more before 
we part. 

Lord Burnham {angrily). Well? 
Palsam. You have never shown any real interest 
in the reformation of London. (Lord Burnham 
shows great impatience.) There is to be a great 
temperance fete at the Crystal Palace next month. 
Now, you have a cellar of very expensive wines. It 
would be a noble and graceful action on your part if 
you would consent to preside at the Crystal Palace, 
and publicly pour away all your expensive wines into 
the gutter — 

(Lord Burnham rises em-aged; goes up to 
Palsam with a tJweatening gesture. Pal- 
sam remaifis quite calm. Lord Burnham 
makes an effort to speak, looks at Palsam, 
finally comes away and di'ops on to sofa.) 



112 THE CRUSADERS act hi 

Lord Burnham {helplessly, in a low voice). Will 
somebody take it away ! 

Palsam. I'm going, my lord. {Leans over back 
of sofa, and speaks in Lord Burnham's/^z^^.) I'll call 
to-morrow at your town house for your decision about 
the Crystal Palace. Good-morning ! 

{Exit at windotv.) 

Mrs. Cam. Lord Burnham ! (Lord Burnham looks 
up.) I don't blame you ; but I never knew anything 
so mismanaged as this reformation of London ! I've 
been connected with bazaars and charities of all sorts, 
and I've always made them most successful ! And 
I'm quite sure I could have made this reformation of 
London a gigantic success ! 

Lord Burnham. Then take it, my dear lady, take 
it, and make it a gigantic success ! I don't want to 
reform London ! 

Mrs. Cam. {growing more indignant; rings bell). 
And it's sure to get into the papers — and after all I've 
done ! However, I wash my hands of the whole affair ! 

Lord Burnham. So do I ! so do I ! 

Mrs. Cam. I never was so annoyed in my life — 

Worrell enters at door right. 

{ With great dignity^ Tell Mrs. Greenslade I leave 
for town by the next train. {Going up stage, turns.) 
Tell Mrs. Greenslade that the Duchess of Launceston 
and Mrs. Campion-Blake resign their places on the 
committee ! (Worrell exits.) 



ACT III THE CRUSADERS 113 

{Pause. Mrs. Campion-Blake stalks up to 
door at back, opens it, turns, stalks back 
to table, takes up the blue satin programme, 
goes back same style. Exit with great 
offended dignity, cai-rying the blue satin 
programme.^ 
Lord Burnham {regretfully). And I was fond of 
a bit of racing ! 

Una enters ivindow. Philos comes doivn. 

{Rising^ Heigho ! I'm afraid, Miss Dell, there is 
no way of mending society. 

Una. If everybody mended himself. Lord Burn- 
ham, society wouldn't want any mending. 

Lord Burnham. Ah ! but who's going to begin ? 
{Meeting Philos, who is coming down.) Mr. Ingar- 
iield, I did you an injustice. ( Offering hand, Philos 
takes it.) You must come with me to town, and we'll 
get this Costa Rica aifair settled. 

Cynthia enters. 

{Seeing Cynthia, hurrying to window^ I'll see if 
my carriage is ready. ( Goes up to back, into window^ 
Cynthia {tvalking towards Philos with the deepest 
shame) . I can't say anything ! Can you forgive me ? 
(Philos <^^7£'j.) You'll forget me ? 

(Philos looks at her and shakes his head. 
He goes from her, and throws himself on 
sofa.) 



114 THE CRUSADERS act hi 

Cynthia {going to Una) . I have broken his heart ! 
Help me to heal it ! Help me to give him cour- 
age ! 

Una {comes down to Philos, tries to assume a bright^ 
cheerful tone'). Come, comrade ! though we women 
are false, the world must wag, and we must help it ! 
Come ! your work ! {Laying her hand on his 
shoulder^ 

Philos {rising, bewildered, dreamy). My work! 
What work ? 

Una. To make London beautiful ! London healthy ! 
London clean ! From north to south, from east to 
west, in every street, in every home ! 

Lord Burnham. What madness ! 

Una. Oh, yes ; it's madness ! Century after cen- 
tury the same mad chase, the same mad dream ! We 
hunt for what we shall never find, we dream what will 
never come true. We know it ; but still we pursue, 
and still we dream ! Our Dulcinea is always false, but 
we always think her true ; we give our strength for 
a parsley garland ; we drain Europe of its flower of 
manhood to buy a little sacred spot in Jerusalem ; we 
ride shameless through Coventry ; we spill our blood 
like water for the Stuarts ; we send Paris, red with 
butchery, dancing after liberty, equality, fraternity; 
we tilt at every windmill, we dash ourselves on every 
pike ! Oh, you are right ! We are mad enough ! 
But our madness keeps the world alive ! Your sanity 



ACT III THE CRUSADERS 115 

Stagnates ! Our madness breeds your ideals ; and 
you're dead, you're dead, you're dead without ideals ! 

(^Exit Lord Burnham at window.) 
{To Philos.) Come along! Let the past alone! 
Begin afresh to-day ! Come ! 

Philos {fises, with face full of resolve'). I will ; 
and ril never look behind till my work is done ! {To 
Cynthia.) Good-bye ! 

Cynthia. Good-bye ! 

Philos {tia-jis back, beseechingly). Give me that 
kiss you promised me ! {She kisses his forehead^ 
Can't you love me ? 

Cynthia. You saved me ! Do with me as you 
please ! {She drops at his feet. ) 

(Una looks at them, then goes off hopelessly 
at door at back.) 

Curtain. 



BY THE SAME AUTHOR. 



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Fitzgerald enforces sound doctrine on subjects as vari- 
ous as tone, distinction, breadth, facial expression, ges- 
ture, stage business, and the like." — Evening Post, 
Ne-w York. 

(2) 



THE WORKS OF 

William Winter. 



SHAKESPEARE'S ENGLAND. i8mo, Cloth, 75 

Cents. 
GRAY DAYS AND GOLD. i8mo, Cloth, 75 Cents. 

SHADOWS OF THE STAGE. i8mo, Cloth, 75 

Cents. 
OLD SHRINES AND IVY. iSmo, Cloth, 75 Cents. 

Also a Small Limited Large Paper Edition. 4 Vols. 
Uniform. $8.00. 

WANDERERS: A Collection of Poems. New Edi- 
tion. With A Portrait. i8mo. Cloth, 75 Cents. 

" The supreme need of this age in America is a 
practical conviction that progress does not consist in 
material prosperity, but in spiritual advancement. 
Utility has long been exclusively worshipped. The 
welfare of the future lies in the worship of beauty. To 
that worship these pages are devoted, with all that im- 
plies of sympathy with the higher instincts, and faith in 
the divine destiny of the human race." — From the 
Preface to Gray Days atid Gold. 



MACMILLAN & CO., 

112 Fourth Avenue, NEW YORK, 

(i) 



WANDERERS ; 

BEING 

A Collection of the Poems of William Winter. 

New Edition, Revised and Enlarged. With 

a Portrait of the Author. 

i8mo, Cloth, 75 Cents. 

Also a Limited Large Paper Edition, printed 

on English Hand-made Paper. Price $2.50. 



" But it has seemed to the author of these poems — 
which of course are offered as absolutely impersonal 
— that they are the expression of various representative 
moods of human feeling and various representative 
aspects of human experience, and that therefore they 
may possibly possess the inherent right to exist." — 
From the Preface. 

" The verse of Mr. Winter is dedicated mainly to 
love and wine, to flowers and birds and dreams, to the 
hackneyed and never-to-be-exhausted repertory of the 
old singers. His instincts are strongly conservative; his 
confessed aim is to belong to ' that old school of English 
Lyrical Poetry, of which gentleness is the soul, and 
simplicity the garment.' " — Satiirday Review. 

" The poems have a singular charm in their graceful 
spontaneity." — Scots Observer. 

"Free from cant and rant — clear cut as a cameo, 
pellucid as a mountain brook. It may be derided as 
trite, borue, unimpassioned; but in its own modest 
sphere it is, to our thinking, extraordinarily successful, 
and satisfies us far more than the pretentious mouthing 
which receives the seal of over-hasty approbation." — 
AthencBH7n, 



MACMILLAN & CO., 

112 Fourth Avenue, NEW YORK. 

(2) 



Shadows of the Stage. 

i8mo, Cloth, 75 Cents. 



" The fame of the actor more than that of any 
other artist is an evanescent one — a 'bubble 
reputation ' — indeed, and necessarily so from 
the conditions under which his genius is exer- 
cised. While the impression it makes is often 
more vivid and inspiring for the moment than 
that of the poet and the painter, it vanishes almost 
with the occasion which gave it birth, and lives 
only as a tradition in the memory of those to 
whom it had immediately appealed. ' Shadows 
they are, and shadows they pursue.' 

" The writer, therefore, who, gifted with insight 
and a poetic enthusiasm which enables him to 
discern on the one hand the beauties in a dra- 
matic work not perceived by the many, and on the 
other the qualities in the actor which have made 
him a true interpreter of the poet's thought, at 
the same time possessing the faculty of revealing 
to us felicitously the one, and the other is cer- 
tainly entitled to our grateful recognition. 

" Such a writer is Mr. William Winter, easily 
the first, — for we know of none other living in 
this country, or in the England he loves so much, 
in whose nature the critic's vision is united with 
that of the poet so harmoniously. . . . 

" Over and above all this, there is in these writ- 
ings the same charm of style, poetic glamour and 
flavor of personality which distinguish whatever 
comes to us from Mr. Winter's pen, and which 
make them unique in our literature." — Home 
Journal, New York. 



MACMILLAN & CO., 

12 Fourth Avenue, NEW YORK. 

(3) 



OLD SHRINES AND IVY. 

i8mo, Cloth, 75 Cents. 



CONTENTS. 

SHRINES OF HISTORY. 
I. Storied Southampton. 
II. Pageantry and Relics. 

III. The Shakespeare Church. 

IV. A Stratford Chronicle. 
V. From London to Dover. 

VI. Beauties of France. 

VII. Ely and its Cathedral. 

VIII. From Edinburgh to Inverness. 

IX. The Field of Culloden. 

X. Stormbound lona. 

SHRINES OF LITERATURE. 
XL- The Forest of Arden : As You Like It. 
XII. Fairy Land: A Midsummer Night's Dream. 

XIII. "Will 0' the Wisp: Love's Labour Lost. 

XIV. Shakespeare's Shrew. 

XV. A Mad World: Anthony and Cleopatra. 

XVI. Sheridan, and the School for Scandal. 

XVII. Farquhar, and the Inconstant. 

XVIII. Longfellow. 

XIX. A Thought on Cooper's Novels. 

XX. A Man of Letters: John R. G. Hassard. 

" Whatever William Winter writes is marked by felic- 
ity of diction and by refinement of style, as well as by 
the evidence of culture and wide reading. ' Old Shrines 
and Ivy' is an excellent example of the charm of his 
work." — Boston Courier. 



I 



MACMILLAN & CO., 

Fourth Avenue, NEW YORK. 

(4) 



SHAKESPEARE'S 

ENGLAND. 

i8mo, Cloth, 75 Cents. 



"... It was the author's wish, in dwelling thus 
upon the rural loveliness, and the literary and historical 
associations of that delightful realm, to afford sympa- 
thetic guidance and useful suggestion to other Ameri- 
can travellers who, like himself, might be attracted to 
roam among the shrines of the mother-land. Tempera- 
ment is the explanation of style; and he has written 
thus of England because she has filled his mind with 
beauty and his heart with mingled joy and sadness; 
and surely some memory of her venerable ruins, her 
ancient shrines, her rustic glens, her gleaming rivers, 
and her flower-spangled meadows will mingle with the 
last thoughts that glimmer through his brain when the 
shadows of the eternal night are falling and the ramble 
of life is done." — From the Preface. 

" He offers something more than guidance to the 
American traveller. He is a convincing and eloquent 
interpreter of the august memories and venerable sanc- 
tities of the old country." — Saturday Review. 

" The book is delightful reading." — Scribners 
Monthly. 

" Enthusiastic and yet keenly critical notes and com- 
ments on English life and scenery." — Scotsman. 



MACMILLAN & CO., 

112 Fourth Avenue, NEW YORK. 

(5) 



GRAY DAYS 

AND GOLD, 

i8mo, Cloth, 75 Cents. 



CONTENTS. 

Classic Shrines. 

Haunted Glens and Houses. 
The Haunts of Moore. Old York. 

Beautiful Bath. 

The Lakes and Fells of Wordsworth. 
Shakespeare Relics at Worcester. 

Byron and Hucknall Torkard. 

Historic Nooks and Corners. 
Up and Down the Avon. Shakespeare's Town 

Rambles in Arden. 

The Stratford Fountain. 
Bosworth Field. 

The Home of Dr. Johnson. 
From London to Edinburgh. 
Into the Highlands. 

Highland Beauties. 

The Heart of Scotland. 
Elegiac Memorials. Sir Walter Scott. 

Scottish Pictures. 

Imperial Ruins. 

The Land of Marmion. 

At Vesper Time. 

This book, which is intended as a companion to 
Shakespeare's England, relates to the gray days of an 
American wanderer in the British Isles, and to the gold 
of thought and fancy that can be found there. 



MACMILLAN & CO., 

[2 Fourth Avenue, NEW YORK. 

(6) 



GRAY DAYS 

AND GOLD. 

i8mo, Cloth, 75 Cents. 



PRESS NOTICES. 

"Mr. Winter's graceful and meditative style in his 
English sketches has recommended his earlier volume 
upon (Shakespeare's) England to many readers, who 
will not need urging to make the acquaintance of this 
companion book, in which the traveller guides us 
through the quiet and romantic scenery of the mother- 
country with a mingled affection and sentiment of 
which we have had no example since Irving's day." — 
The Nation. 

" As friendly and good-humoured a book on English 
scenes as any American has written since Washington 
Irving." — Daily News, Loudon. 

" Much that is bright and best in our literature is 
brought once more to our dulled memories. Indeed, 
we know of but few volumes containing so much of 
observation, kindly comment, philosophy, and artistic 
weight as this unpretentious little book." — Chicago 
Herald. 

" They who have never visited the scenes which Mr. 
Winter so charmingly describes will be eager to do so 
in order to realize his fine descriptions of them, and they 
who have already visited them will be incited by his 
eloquent recital of their attractions to repeat their 
former pleasant experiences." — Public Ledger, 
Philadelphia. 



MACMILLAN & CO., 

112 Fourth Avenue, NEW YORK, 

(7) 



IN THE PRESS. 



i8mo, Cloth, 75 Cents. 

Shadows of the Stage. 

SECOND SERIES. 

BY 

WILLIAM WINTER. 



" Mr. Winter has long been known as the 
foremost of American dramatic critics, as a 
writer of very charming verse, and as a mas- 
ter in the lighter veins of English prose." — 
Chicago Herald. 



MACMILLAN & CO., 

112 Fourth Avenue, NEW YORK 

(8) 



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